


Close Your Eyes and the Glory Fades

by NowWeOwnTheNight



Series: Haikyuu!! AUs [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 'we're saving the world', Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, M/M, and i love him, and ushijima is truly, asahi is depressed and poetic, but just know that when he cries, everything is fine, i didn't add that in there, its snotty and wobbly-chinned and gross, iwaizumi is one tough fucker, kageyama is an ugly crier, lots of mentions of murder and family murder, lots of violence but i don't think its that graphic, noya is kinda going crazy, oikawa hates bokuto, the gift that just keeps giving, the world is just completely fucked, truly, virus is based off of the last of us, woohoo zombie au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 08:57:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8243671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NowWeOwnTheNight/pseuds/NowWeOwnTheNight
Summary: For a while, two pairs of boots on gravel and the smell of gunsmoke rising from the rifle and the tiny hand in his were the only comforts in this black shell one could tentatively still label a ‘world’. To a degree, it certainly was a world. Spherical. Spinning. Forms of life....In a way, to Asahi, the world was long dead. \\Based off of 'Ready Aim Fire' by Imagine Dragons//





	1. Bubbling Up and Festering

**Author's Note:**

> SO! More random AU stuff. I’ve butchered the zombie infection of the Last Of Us and this is the product. Throw in some weird anime characters and tahdah, one mess of a human being writing more weird shit. Cool? Cool.  
> NOTE this takes place towards the end of Asahi/Daichi/Suga’s second year, so Hinata and Kageyama have met but they haven’t been on the same team. A+

ºººººº

 

For a while, two pairs of boots on gravel and the smell of gunsmoke rising from the rifle and the tiny hand in his were the only comforts in this black shell one could tentatively still label a ‘world’. To a degree, it certainly was a world. Spherical. Spinning. Forms of life.

 

Nishinoya swung their linked arms and beamed up at him, blood dashed all down his chin and throat, on his shoulders, drying in his yellow singlet.

“I still have you, Asahi,” He chirps, “And that’s what matters. We got a lot of food from those guys! All we need now is a good place to camp out. Come on.” His hand slips from his, and Noya runs forward, chucking rocks at doors to test for the infected that can still hear. It’s the silent ones- the ones whose ears don’t work anymore -that will get them, surely, when they sweep the house. Asahi’s whole arm goes cold and numb at the loss of Noya’s hand- a tingle in the arteries that leaches into his brain and chokes it of all happiness.

The blood that stains Noya’s body is not his own.

Nor are the sludge-coloured splashes on his hands, worn from the grip he’d had on the butchers knife he’d grabbed on a whim back in that restaurant.

 

In a way, to Asahi, the world was long dead.

 

ºººººº

 

It started as an experiment. A majority of things do, like Asahi’s split decision to kiss Noya after practice instead of running away like he usually would when they hug goodbye at the street corner- back when everything was fine and the scariest thing was Daichi getting mad, or skipping volleyball practice, or a difficult upcoming exam.

Back then, Asahi worried a lot. He let stress get the better of him; render him inert for hours at a time.

 

This kind of weakness knows no place with the world in the state it’s in.

So Asahi evolved.

 

It started, like many good things do, as an experiment.

Some mad scientist in a medical practice center in central New York decided that it would be a great idea to push into revival of the deceased, trawling her way through postmortem after postmortem that went beyond basic autopsies. They say she worked for your average local hospital and, with her access to the morgue, was given every opportunity to reanimate corpses through nothing but pure science. Blending chemicals, electric volts that caused blackouts, more hearts, more brains. Less hearts, more machines. More electrodes than nerves and more bone than skin.

She tried every method that came to her. Those bodies weren’t going anywhere, and morgues didn’t have cameras.

 

Finally, it stuck. Some vapor bottled from the Amazon jungle. An infection, a fungus that was proven to zombify insects, take control of their brains. That wouldn’t have been enough, she knew, to resurrect a full human corpse. So, as humans do, she tampered. She played with the fungus- strengthened it, lengthened its life, extended its span. Matured it. Mutated it in twisted ways that only humans can, in ways nature could never ever dream.

And it worked.

Oh, it fucking worked all right.

The body she tested it on was leaping for her jugular before she could reach the emergency phone. In its youth, the virus jumped from person to person by bite, by the release of vapor that flooded the building in mere minutes, by simple skin on skin contact.

Halfway across the world, Japan got the news, and the country went in to shutdown. Kids were sent away from school, trains ceased and trapped the millions of business people from their homes. Plans were made to bomb the city of New York, but by the time the U.N voted ‘yes’, the plague-ridden had travelled too far. It was too late. The sickness spread, its aggressive nature impossible to fight with bullets and armored men. It was in the blood, it was on the skin, and when they died, it was in the air, lingering for weeks without expiring, as if clinging to life with the sole purpose of contaminating anyone who passed through.

America went down in twelve hours.

People with exceptional immune systems were infected and for some reason were able to survive with the fungus growing inside them for lengths of time roughly equal to plane rides over the Atlantic ocean. These people included, in some fuck up of natural selection, the more corrupt members of Congress.

Every domestic plane that left the country was turned around at the announcement: Nation-Wide Shut Down. This became World-Wide crisis, which then turned into World-Wide Shut Down bare minutes after a gold-plated plane of Congressmen landed in Paris and those men turned, attacking everything in sight.

The forces of Europe couldn’t crush it, and before the families and governments of Eastern Asia were ready, it spread over the Middle East, ripped right through India, and devastated everything in its path from the dense cities to the sparsely populated countryside.

By then, it had calmed, but was no less shocking or all consuming as it had been in that small, cold hospital basement. Several billion ‘infected’, those left in the wake struggling to pick up the pieces of their broken lives, living on the fault line that separates survival and rabidity. Communities are things of the past- order more rare than hearts of gold; which had become all but extinct.

Japan got hit just as the virus began to decline- the hostility of the infected had halved, and its contamination levels quartered. It swarmed slowly, grabbing people here and there, playing the puppeteer of horror and trepidation as Japan, too, gradually fell to anarchy. Giving the country’s inhabitants time to run, friends were split and bonds were torn farther and farther apart, until almost everyone was the enemy of the guy next to them, and the guy next to them ended up being three towns and a mountain away with nothing but wandering cadavers separating them. The future had taken a dive, shot to all hell: the world had become hell itself. Mass suicides preceded and became a result of the infection. You could only run, hold your mothers hand as she drags you miles and miles away from your home town, and pray that some of those climbing numbers didn’t belong to your best friends, your grandparents, your cousins and aunts and uncles.

Eventually, the numbers stopped.

There was hardly anyone left to report the state of the country, or of the world. It is a result of capacity...

 

Humanity is breathing its very last.

Now, all that’s left on the surface of this miserable earth is the flora and fauna, the landscapes- emptied of mankind’s impact –and the ones that are surviving, the ones that are going insane, and the ones that are already dead.

 

And Australia.

Australia’s perfectly fine.

Not that there are many people left to care, other than the Australians themselves.

 

ºººººº

 

Five months after outbreak, four feet has become eight wheels, and Asahi’s new comforts extend to beaten leather seats, a steering wheel with a sheepskin cover, and the space and security of the minivan Noya broke in to and hotwired. Petrol is free, given that most of the people in the world are either dead or _walking_ dead.

Well, gas may be free, but it in itself is a currency. The last-standing matter of business… food and weaponry aside. A form of tribal separation: stations becoming targets and strongholds of the larger, more domineering groups of survivors. Money means shit all, as expected if the world were to ever turn to shit.

Which it has.

Which means trading what precious supplies they have for fuel.

Which means fighting for it when the terms are beyond agreeable.

Which means…

“Noya, duck!” The short boy throws himself down as three bullets whiz over his head, quickly followed by a triplet of apologies from his tall partner that are far louder than the silenced gunshots. His watchful eyes pick up on the bullet wounds as the defenders of the station go down.

“Elbow, elbow, hand- good job, Azumane!” He cheers, scrabbling forward to silence the three women’s wails of pain with clubs to the head. There are fly-covered bodies of incapacitated infected- brains out, legs snapped for good measure. _These ladies were smart_ , Noya reflects. _Shame they didn’t want to negotiate._ “Fill the van up, I’ll see what I can find! We should get going, remember that hoard we passed on the way here?”

“Yeah, yeah. Make sure you leave them…” Asahi begins, trailing off when Noya turns, frowning at him. His expression reads anger. His eyes: guiltless.

“Finish that fucking sentence, Asahi, and I _swear to god_ your brains are gonna be the next ones to hit the ground.”

Months ago, Asahi would argue. He’d demand that they leave a few weeks worth of rations for the people they’d injured, just in case.

‘Just in case’ meant if their targets survived their injuries and weren’t later picked off by the zombies that the blood attracted.

‘Just in case’ was relevant before their area’s zombie-to-human ratio dropped from something under one to every hundred- maybe hundred thousand, it’s hard to tell -to _hopelessness_. Distinguishing between what was living and what was dead is impossible when every day blurred together and every road looked the same: brown from old blood, murky under the grey sun. Half the time, he didn’t know whether he was living or dead. Whether Noya was still alive at his side, or whether he was just making the boy up to survive with his grief, his guilt, his fears. Whether this was all some long nightmare, and he’d wake up to his dog barking and his alarm telling him to get to school and seven shitpost texts from Noya, because he _never sleeps_.

That much hasn’t changed- Noya is almost always on night watch, Asahi struggles to face each day as it comes, and he’s usually woken up by loud noises. Noya screaming in his sleep, Noya screaming at him to get up, Noya screaming _for him_ because they’re being attacked, Noya being attacked, or the scrambling and shrieking of the zombies Noya wasn’t able to distract and lead away from that night’s camp site.

It’s all the same, in a totally different way. Asahi will get up, sling the giant rifle over his shoulder and take down anything following Noya as he climbs walls and buildings, jumps from rooftop to rooftop, sprints down alleys and abandoned freeways, sometimes laughing, sometimes shrieking in terror.

Depends on the day.

 

Noya disappears into the petrol stop, muttering about long-life milk and how he’d _kill_ to find a cow or a goat right about now, and Asahi drowns the truck with as much gasoline it will take before taking the multi-litre reserve canisters and filling them as well. At least this is a routine- something to maintain in the flyaway ashes of the world they knew, in the ticking time bomb that could be either of them.

 

Sometimes, there’s this shine in Noya’s eyes. A vibe of sorts.

A madness.

It passes as soon as comes, but.

 _It’s there_.

 

ºººººº

 

The minivan has four rows of seats including the back row, plus the driver’s seat and a space they assumed was for the passenger’s. It had been ripped out and replaced with a Gatling Gun by its previous owners. Noya makes good use of it whenever they come across more ammo. The back seat is for lighter cargo: food, blankets, paper, clothes. Rows two and one are for water and petrol storage, what weapons they’ve decided to hold on to, and any other heavy supplies they’ve come across. Row three on the right is their explosives store, and on the left is their bed. The space on the floor is plastered in maps and handwritten notes: Asahi’s blocky hand and Noya’s scribbly kanji filling each line with plan and thought.

Their van holds what coziness of home could still exist on a planet ravaged by zombies and lawlessness of the enduring population. A small gas burner, an oil lamp, fine sheepskin- well, there are no laws. There’s nothing stopping them from breaking in to upper-class shops, there’s no one calling them out for emptying jewelers and using them for dress-ups after merciless days, and there’s nothing wrong with Noya insisting on wearing his two-hundred-thousand yen sunglasses whenever Asahi lets him drive.

Noya drives more often, now. He doesn’t know how to drive at all- he knows that right foot means go and left foot means stop, no matter how stressed out Asahi gets when he tries to explain that _you should never use more than one foot for the pedals_. As reluctant as he is, Asahi can only pull his hair back and keep working on their maps, trying to track where they are and plan routes ahead while Noya burns excessive fuel rocketing down the straights.

In an apocalyptic, virtually deserted world, maps shouldn’t matter and studying anything further than the barrel of a gun and the contents of empty buildings would be a thing of the past.

 

But _something_ _happened_ a week ago, days after their last stop at a petrol station.

 

As a joke, Noya suggested they were still alive and semi-sane for a reason:

_To save the world._

The very next day, they found the first friendly encampment since the beginning of this Hell on Earth. A conversation with some research nuts, ex-members of high-level security military, and American persons who took a brave chance on the Pacific, revealed to Asahi that there’s more to this fungal infection than meets the eye. He took everything they had to say on board as Noya terrorized the leader for food- in the pleasantest way possible, as per Asahi’s request. He copied notes, asked questions, helped them figure locations and pinpoint co-ordinates.

These men had the theory down, the semantics; they just didn’t have the ability to execute it.

Leaving the camp after spending the night in safety, Asahi told Noya to drive, to head south. He threw a map of Japan across the floor of the van and gutted it of the islands surrounding the main island. With water and a bit of salt, he glued it to sheets of workbook paper until the lines surrounded it. It was then that he started drawing- connecting streaks of red pen, working and re-working numbers, figures for the travel’s cost in bullets and gas and water. Their van bumped along a highway and weaved through city suburbs; he leant with the corners, never once easing up on the calculations. After a while, he remembered the notes in his backpack and decided to add them to what he’d got mapped out so far. The information on the zombies and their nature only served to back up the final decision he and the others had come to last night: his and Noya’s destination.

Circling areas they know are claimed and hostile, crossing areas that they know are teeming with infected, Asahi didn’t stop working until Noya was pulling his matted locks back into a ponytail and telling him that he’s got dinner on the fire.

Asahi was sixteen years old. He has the common knowledge to know what bees are and how they work. It’s not dissimilar to the way the zombies operate. The ‘infected’ worked on a hybrid between hive-mind operation and independent instinct. Gumi, one of the military workers, explained that this case of infection and neurologically transmitted control came from the initial case, the ‘Queen’.

Patient zero.

The concept is simple: kill the ‘Queen’, and the infection dies with it.

“I didn’t know you were working so hard on…” A pause, as Noya looked over Asahi’s writing and plotting, “Asahi… What’s… What _is_ this?”

Asahi looked him dead in the eye, took a deep breath.

“We’re saving the world.”

 

That flash came, but this time it stayed.

 _Determination_.

“ _Fuck_ yeah.”

“Fuck yeah.” He breathed back, wheezing when Noya dived onto him with arms open and hands clutching.

 

ºººººº

 

There are still sparks in Noya’s eyes, but Asahi knows that they burn on the brink of lunacy. Determination is one powerful force… Killing people still takes its toll, even if they pretend it doesn’t. He doesn’t know how long it’ll be until Noya breaks. He prays it won’t be too soon.

He knows that if he loses it tomorrow, Noya’s indisputably too far gone to hesitate before pointing a gun to Asahi’s temple and ending it mercifully, quickly. Noya, he expects, will go rabid and attack whatever moves- even the approachable people they might happen across. The short boy has always run on instinct, listening to his gut, unable to fight impulsion. If Asahi allows himself to weaken, become incompetent in this kill-or-be-killed world, he doesn’t doubt that Noya will put a bullet in his skull first and cry about it later.

Asahi just doesn’t know if he could do the same, should the time come.

 

He hopes he’s the one to go first.

 

ºººººº


	2. Backs To The Wall

ºººººº

 

“Shut up! Get on your knees!!” Noya screams at the three boys, “On your knees with your hands on you head!”

“Noya, they’re just kids.” Asahi grunts, but keeps his rifle trained on the taller, dark-haired one with an impressive array of spears in the makeshift quiver on his back.

“That kid just tried to _blow us up_ , Asahi, and you’re telling he he’s _just a kid_?!” Noya is incredulous, aiming down at a red-headed boy who can’t be much taller than Noya himself.

He has every right to be incredulous. Asahi’s right ear is still ringing, his left side still bleeding from his impact on the corroded tiling of the marketplace's foyer. “ _No one_ is just a _kid_ , anymore, Asahi! No one!!”

“I’m sorry!” The tiny redhead squeaks, not realizing that Noya’s kind-of not talking about him anymore, screaming at the world and the loss of innocence in general.

“I said _shut up_!!”

“I didn’t mean to- I- I thought you were infected-”

“I said _quiet_!!”

“He really did.” It’s the kid with straight brown hair, almost as long as Asahi’s, who speaks next. “Shouyou is an idiot like that.” His tone is _done_ , like he couldn’t care less whether he’s shot in the skull here and now, or shredded by the zombies smashing themselves against the iron door of the superstore they’d taken cover in. “He sees something move and he wants to blow it up-”

A warning shot is fired into the floor millimeters from the talking boy’s knee. Shards of porcelain go flying. A few scratch his cheek- one embeds itself in his brow, and he shies, his hands coming up to run over the injuries. Despite the blood that begins to flow, he doesn’t make a sound. At the movement, Noya fires another bullet, this time tearing a hole through the sleeve of the boy’s oversized red jacket. On the other end of the line of kneeling boys, the red head cries out and pushes away from the bullets. Two more whiz by his face and he squeaks, freezing mid crouch.

“Don’t make me hit you! Make this easy for us and _just sit still and shut up_ -!!”

“ _Brains_ ~” A source-less voice moans, followed by painfully fake gargling. Asahi almost jumps out of his skin, whirling around in all directions to find-

A boy dances into view from the aisles, his black hair impressively spiked and a thick fringe cut poorly to avoid blocking his vision. “Haha, Kenma check out these fucking _rad_ shoes,” The sneakers he’s wearing light up with every step, glowing gold and white light in waves where he puts pressure on the soles of the shoes; his smile carefree, child-like. “Bo would love…” He takes in the guns, the kneeling boys, and the innocent smile turns dangerous. “Oh. _Friends_.”

Noya swivels, not moving his gun from the three on the floor. Asahi, however, points his rifle at the newcomer.

“ _Knees_.” Noya commands.

“Pf, no _way_ ~” He sings, walking towards Asahi. The bottoms of his sneakers flash with each step. His jacket appears to match the brown-haired kid, whose hands are still dabbing at the blood pouring from his wounds. “Shoot me, if you want. You, gargantuan bro- you _know_ I’m no bad guy.”

“Asahi, shoot the asshole.”

“… Nekoma?”

“Yah! They said you’d recognize the jackets! You were one of Sawamura Daichi’s friends, yeah?”

“Yeah…”

Noya goes suspiciously silent. Maybe he’s thinking what Asahi is: maybe this stranger can tell them something about the fate of their school friends. Although it’s rare for Noya to stop menacing new people with _death_ , he plays it off considerably well.

“Whelp!” The boy stops in front of Asahi, nose bumping the muzzle of his gun. “Last I saw, he ‘n’ that pretty grey-haired boy of his was headed south, for Tokyo. Apparently the outskirts’re relatively infected-free, ‘cuz they’re all in the capital, stuck ‘n’ rotting away. So- they might actually be dead? That, or the gangs cleared ‘em.”

“Gangs?”

“How far north were you two?! Never heard of the Boas? Tiger Clan? The… Fuckin’…” The guns may not scare the boy, but the incessantly rising clamor outside the superstore’s reinforced doors breaks his concentration. “If that’s where you’re headed, though, we can help.”

“Who the _fuck_ are you, anyway?” Noya has grown impatient after hearing nothing decent of his former classmates and upperclassmen.

“The name’s Kuroo.” The spikey boy introduces himself to Noya, eyes level with Asahi’s gun and unflinchingly shaking the barrel of Noya’s when a hand isn’t offered instead. “Hinata Shouyou is the red head, Kageyama’s the tall one, Kenma’s mine.” He flashes yet another sharp-toothed smile. “We’re coming with you.”

“ _No_.”

“Noya, was it?” He starts to harass, “You two- I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long alone! The closer you get to Tokyo, the more _fucked_ you’re gonna be. Gangs rule that territory, so you’re gonna need more than two pairs of…” A loud bang and the creak of hinges stifle his cockiness fairly fast. “We saw your van. We’re stocked, too. Let us grab our shit, and-”

“No-”

“ _Yes_.”

“Asahi!?”

“Noya, hey, just-”

“I-”

“The little guy knows everything there is to know about explosives,” Kuroo rants like he’s reinforcing Asahi’s acceptance by selling his friend’s qualities, shoving said companions in the direction of where their supplies must be. “Kageyama never misses when he throws his spears, but the fucker almost dies when he tries to get them back. Kenma and I- we specialize in defense. We’re better off being protected than actually fighting, but…” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a revolver. Noya flinches, raising his gun to Kuroo’s chest. “We _are_ armed.”

“Asahi, I _seriously_ think you should reconsider-”

“How else do you think we’re gonna get into that fort, Noya, and he knows more about where we’re going-”

“ _Argh_ -”

“We haven’t been this way for, what, three, four months? Plus, I know Kuroo through Daichi. He’s a prick-”

“ _Oi_ -!”

“But he’s a good guy, and seemed like a good captain, and-”

“What do you mean _seemed_ , eh, bigfoot, apocalypse or no, I’m still a-”

The door gives with a clank. Hinata, Kageyama, and Kenma are sprinting past them with a few overstuffed backpacks, and the bloodthirsty screaming intensifies.

“Fuck! _Fuck_ , fine! _Go_!!” Noya shoves Asahi to follow the four boys, firing a couple of shots at the oncoming swarm of mindless killing machines, “I’ll buy you some time, Asahi! See you at the van,” comes the reassuringly less bad-tempered shout as he splits off and starts bellowing, kicking shelves and making a ruckus.

“Alright!”

The zombies forget about the pack of boys running for the exit and start following the far louder, more enticing, more _alive_ target. Asahi takes the lead… Almost. That damn Hinata kid stays a few steps ahead of him, watching his moves and following from in front. A dormant part of his brain wonders whether this kid played volleyball too, before the world shat itself and the only sport was running, aiming, and firing.

They get out through the shopping center’s delivery entrance and into the vacant street where they’d parked the van. The town is already becoming overrun with vegetation. Asahi can’t say he’s unhappy for the triumph of nature, given the way it’d been pushed back for thousands of years.

But now is not the time for thinking these sorts of things. It rarely is.

“In the van, quick! If you have ammo, get ready to use it!”

“For _what_?!” Kuroo half-laughs, half screams, very out of breath; Asahi tries to stop himself from doubting the kid’s past as a potential volleyball captain.

Far down the road, the main entrance to the plaza smashes open and Noya comes tearing down the street towards them. Seconds later, a wave of infected rush out in pursuit- shrieking, bloody, jerkily moving their limbs in the signature tumble-sprint. Kuroo tries to pick a few off from where they are, almost shooting Noya’s ear off. He gives up when the short boy screams at him to make up his mind: death by Noya, or death by Asahi when he _kills Noya_. Asahi lobs the van into reverse without warning, throwing an unprepared Kenma to the ground. Hinata grabs the nearest thing for stability, which happens to be a crate full of TNT.

Kageyama shoots him a warning look that quickly morphs into a smirk of encouragement. The back of Asahi’s neck prickles.

“Don’t tear those papers! And don’t touch the _damn explosives_!” Asahi orders, looking over his shoulder and through the back window. He takes his gaze away from the road as he reverses for one second, and it’s enough to scare the shit out of him. “I love this van, but I don’t wanna die in it!”

“Such a badass, Asahi!” Hinata praises him whilst he compacts powder into a tube and buries a short length of fuse.

“I’m fucking _serious_ , don’t-” He slams the breaks on, hauling Noya through the drivers window as the sprinting boy leaps up and latches onto his arm, skidding the wheels as he shifts to drive and steps on the accelerator.

“Sorry!! Too late!”

Hinata flings open a window, throws the stick of lit explosives into the infected, and edges Asahi on even though the older boy’s foot is already planted against the floor, the engine blaring.

 

ºººººº

 

Noya threatened to drop the four boys at the nearest town, but was overruled five to one. Kuroo and Kenma are kind of useless, seeing as they constantly travel and don’t exactly have anything to defend, but as Kuroo said: it won’t hurt to have an extra couple of eyes and brains, especially for the road ahead. Hinata is ‘a _bomb_ with explosives’- Asahi pats Kageyama on the back for his attempt to lighten the mood –and can move _very_ fast. Noya challenges him to a sprint race at their next stop, the redhead agreeing eagerly. Kenma’s face takes a few bandaids, a stitch or two administered to his eyebrow cut by Asahi. Kuroo doesn’t stop glaring at Noya for the few days that pass as they near the border of Fukushima and Tochigi.

Asahi learns that Hinata and Kageyama both played volleyball and had only met once before. It was pure luck that they found Kenma and Kuroo, who were fleeing Tokyo due to the insane violence between gangs. They’d found the time to have a few two-on-twos- _god knows_ how, but they did it -and Kuroo states that if the pair had ever ended up on a team together, they would be the most terrifying duo.

 

Kageyama Tobio, they all decide, is one _terrifying_ kid. He singlehandedly turns a dire situation that could’ve meant death for Asahi into a mere close encounter. He was on his water collecting run, a usually anodyne task. Deep breaths, splashes of water, creaking taps, cold night winds.

Five precisely thrown spears- two crack through the skulls of the stealthily approaching rogues, one goes dead-center through a chest, the other two taking out legs–and a skirmish to finish off the rest. All Asahi does is stand there with the tank held to his chest and watch Kageyama shank men twice his strength.

He says nothing of it when they’re back on the van. He simply retreats to the seat they’d semi-cleared for him and Hinata and goes about sharpening his spears. Whether it’s obsessive or therapeutic or both; Kageyama’s always touching them up, making them better. It only adds to his image of terror.

Not that that matters to infected.

 

ºººººº

They’re falling into a new routine- one that Asahi likes a little better than the previous, more solitary one. Once the four newcomers are informed of their plan, any remaining hostilities fall away with the want to do something meaningful in the face of certain death.

It’s easier to find supplies with more people, just as it’s easier to intimidate small groups into giving them ammo and water.

Maybe, the world gets a little brighter with a few more good people by his side.

The darkened thoughts begin to wander into the light as they leave Miyagi behind and move towards the big city of Tokyo:

_I wonder where Suga is right now. I wonder if he and Daichi are okay. Is Tanaka and Chikara and Narita and Kinoshita with them? Are they safe?_

_Are they even alive…_

 

ºººººº


	3. Blood in the Writing

ºººººº

 

Noya has a bad feeling about this town.

He keeps that to himself, though, preferring to let Asahi and the others chat calmly as they pick their way through a few small hotels and bathhouses. A building is demolished every so often along the left side of the narrow road, always lined up with an alley or another narrow street coming down from the hillside on which the small township is built. _Interesting… Keep watching, keep looking… What’s that, how does that connect…_ Training his eyes at the one building with higher stories, he notices windows- removed, not shattered. _Hmm, interesting… A good place for a…_ The cars on the street are in peculiar positions, and standing alone outside as the rest go into yet another shoebox hotel proves his theory true: the faint tinkling of thin metal in every placid breath of nighttime.

_Noise traps... But we’re already noisy… It’s an… Organized emptiness… We’re walking into…_

“Someone is here...” He whispers to Asahi, who jumps a meter and inhales in the screech when he realizes its just Noya. He must’ve forgotten the shorter boy was waiting for him outside. Noya ignores him and keeps hissing under his breath, Asahi recovering and hunching over to hear better. “This town is occupied. The windows are moved for snipers and the street is designed for cover and- see that dead end, there? Noise traps, in, on, and probably under the cars. But…” Noya looks up to the building with no windows, “…They probably already know we’re here. They’ve heard us. They’re seen us.”

“Maybe they’re dead? Maybe this is just leftovers…” Asahi hopes, holding an arm out subtly to halt the group.

“Too organized. Too fresh, too quiet. And I can feel it.” Noya breathes. “Eyes. Watching…”

“What’s the hold-up, huh?” Kuroo says, and compared to Noya his voice is thunderous. Kageyama jumps to suppress it, reading the situation and the look of dread on Noya’s face swiftly. “Oi, _shit_ , get off- what’s goin’ on?”

“Asahi, we need to leave.” Noya barks, “ _Now_. We’ve walked into a-”

A single command echoes through the streets, sharp and high:

“Now, Iwa-chan!!”

**_BANG!_ **

They recognize it as a sniper shot. Just as Noya had predicted- but no one is hit. The toes of his left foot feel like they’re burning and he looks down.

It was a warning shot.

Kuroo ducks and rolls, dragging Kenma and Hinata with him.

“A trap!!” Noya finishes unnecessarily, diving for the nearest car alongside Asahi and Kageyama. “Get down, everyone get down, head back for the van-!”

“No escape, _sorry~_!!” Sings the voice. On cue, a transporter rolls down one of the side-streets and crashes into the hotel the group had just gone through. The vehicle would block off half the road by itself, but there must have been charges in the walls: the building explodes, rubble firing out all over the street, pushing the truck along with it, creating a barricade of ruins. A figure climbs atop in the settling filth. Any features they might have are eaten up by the twilight sky as the dust falls way, but the threat is obvious, loud and clear.

Two swords, curved and long, are held up by arms clearly strong enough to lift them.

Noya pushes aside his worry for his and Asahi’s van. He shoves down the tingling of the sniper’s warning that had made a new hole in the toe of his boot. He forces himself to look left at Kenma and Hinata, and then right at Asahi, Kageyama, and Kuroo.

“Head for the other side of the city! Go, _go_!!”

“Woah, like- _kaboom_!” Hinata cheers, and if it weren’t for the look of downright terror on the boy’s face, Asahi would worry that he’d go back towards the sword-wielding person who’s probably about to kill them all.

Noya bolts, sprinting neck and neck with Hinata down the street. Asahi shoves Kenma and Kuroo before him, trying to pull Kageyama along by the wrist when the boy makes no move to follow.

“Kageyama, we need to keep-”

**BANG!**

Another sniper shot, inches from Kageyama’s neck. Asahi jumps back, releasing him. Other than a hand slapping to the sting of burnt skin where he was nicked, Kageyama’s eyes remain wild, his feet planted.

Further up the road, a tall person in a mask leaps on top of a car, raising a chainsaw above their head and pulling the motor to life. They stands in the way of Noya and Hinata’s escape route, waving the chainsaw menacingly- its panic-inducing buzzing stopping the pair short. Kenma catches up with them and makes to drag Hinata back the way they came, but Kuroo bowls them all over in his head-down sprint. He stares, paralyzed, at the person as they jump off the car and heads towards them. Shoving Kenma underneath him, he fumbles to get his gun out.

**BANG!**

And another sniper shot, driving Asahi away from the boy when it cracks in to the hood of a car, letting out a loud sound and a spray of sparks.

“ _Kageyama_!!! “ Asahi roars, “Move, _now_ -!””

“Chainsaw!!”

Kageyama’s head snaps from side to side, eyes glittering and _crazy_ \- this time in recognition of the voice, pure _disbelief_ -before squeezing his eyes shut as if in prayer. The chainsaw stops, the person in the mask lowering it to his side.

“Oikawa-senpai?!” Kageyama calls into the dark. Asahi, to afraid to move, knows that name and mutters a soft prayer of his own for Kageyama to be correct.

There’s a crash and thud of uneven footsteps on stairs, then the door to the tall building flies open. Noya is on his feet and racing for Asahi, knowing the threat of being shot is gone- by the plainest smile on Noya’s face, Asahi can tell he must recognize who the sniper is as well.

“It _is_ you!! I thought so, holy _shit_!” A lean shadow glides across the road towards them, dodging between cars at breakneck speed with the sound of small wheels on tarmac breaking the shallow gasps and humming heartbeats. “ _Oi_ ~ Hajime! It’s Tobio-chan!!”

The figure that had cut them off down the street hops off the wrecked building and twirls the swords once before sheathing them over his back in a fluid motion.

“Ushijiima almost _killed_ them!” Iwaizumi bellows, picking up a brick and pelting it at Oikawa’s head with terrifying accuracy. Oikawa ducks just in time, the lump hitting a car and clattering off. Something familiar about the screaming insults and arguing flips a switch in Kageyama. Asahi sees how his breath hitches in his throat, watches tears shine in his eyes. “ _Damnit_ , you should’ve said earlier!! _Shittykawa_!!”

“Well _sorry~_!! I thought I recognised the big guy, too!”

“Moron! You could’ve killed them if they _weren’t_ , anyway!”

“Shooting moving targets is _hard_ , Hajime~ I’m too lazy~”

As Noya crashes in to Asahi, giving him a great big ‘I’m so glad we’re both not dead’ hug, it prevents Asahi from stopping Kageyama as he runs towards Oikawa. His paranoia is brushed aside when Oikawa draws nearer. Even in the lack of light, Asahi recognizes those elven features and huge, glowing eyes; sparkling with his own tears of relief as he meets Kageyama, all but diving off of the skateboard and in to the younger boy’s arms. One of Oikawa’s hands clenches in the back of Kageyama’s shirt, the other remaining grasped around a long, wooden staff. The sniper hanging over his back is painted matte black, matching his clothing, rendering him and his weapon invisible in the night.

“Azumane Asahi.”

Asahi jolts at his name spoken in a rumbling baritone. Noya springs to his defense immediately, unsheathing the stubby knife hidden against his hip and slashing at Ushijima. Luckily, Kuroo is there to catch him and place himself between them; Asahi is still a little frozen up by his helplessness as the sniper shots rang out and he couldn’t move himself to protect Kageyama.

“Nah, nah, he’s no harm!” Kuroo assures Noya, stepping out of the way, still holding his hands up as though it’ll prevent Noya from attacking, “Helped us off the ground ‘n everything! Big hands. _Scary_ hands. Good for spiking. Aren’tcha, bro?”

“… No harm even though he was going to hack us to pieces with that chainsaw a minute ago.” Kenma adds dully, smirking when Hinata cackles and elbows his side, praising him for his joke. Even Ushijima chuckles at this, and he hits Kuroo on the back gently.

“I would have been okay. But thank you.”

Little did Ushijima know that Kuroo intervened more for Noya’s sake than the big guy’s.

“No problem, bro!”

Ushijima smiles at him.

From what Asahi recalls, Ushijima was a bulky, awkward highschooler who had incredibly powerful spikes. Shiratorizawa- that was the name of his powerhouse school. They and Aoba Johsai- Oikawa’s high school –were looking to be bitter rivals in Asahi’s third year. The bulkiness is still there, as is the awkwardness.. Asahi notices that, within moments of meeting them, that Ushijima is smiling like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

He wonders what it says about the boy’s current mental state.

“You’re all so lucky~” Oikawa hobbles their way, weaving through the maze of cars, Kageyama staring at some point near both of their feet, walking at his upperclassman’s side. The skateboard has joined the rifle, latched on to the thin backpack. “One more second and this idiot-” He shoves Kageyama to get him to stop staring- “Would have been dead~! Nice save, Asahi.”

Oikawa rounds the last car, and Asahi almost falls flat on his face.

The right leg of his pants is torn off where his knee should be- he leans on the wooden staff to make up balance. Kageyama goes to Hinata, eyeing Ushijima warily.

“Don’t stare, _losers_ ,” Oikawa sings to the rest of them, flashing a quick peace sign, “It’s rude~”

Seemingly from the shadows themselves, Iwaizumi materializes at Oikawa’s side and nudges him gently.

“We should move.”

“That noise was bound to attract attention.” Ushijima acknowledges, looking away from Kageyama, mildly unsettled. He directs his words to Asahi. “Do you want to come with us? Or will you go back to your van?”

“We have a schedule to keep.” Noya proclaims as a weirdly conceited declaration. Oikawa cackles at him, shutting up at Iwaizumi’s harsh elbowing.

“What do you _mean_ schedule? The fuck are you lot up to? _Oh~_!” He staggers against Iwaizumi, leaning to look around Asahi. “ _Kuroo-kun~_! Didn’t see you, there! Have you shrunk~?”

Kuroo snorts and fires back with as much condescension:

“Aren’t you short one limb~?” Iwaizumi’s hand shoots up for the hilt of one of his huge swords. Oikawa merely giggles, swinging the staff in his direction. They all ignore the massive step Kuroo took back, the bodily flinch he made at Iwaizumi’s reach for his weapon.

“ _Ah~_!” Oikawa laughs like there’s nothing wrong, “Still a little shit, I see!”

“Could say the same to you!” Kuroo smiles, true and big and kind despite his snarky tone, and steps around Noya to engulf the other boy in a hug; Iwaizumi stands down, continuing to support Oikawa as they pull apart. “You’ve been well, yeah?”

“As well as I can be…” He shakes the stump of his right leg, “Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, you’re not dead.” Kuroo’s voice is laced with relief.

“May as well be.” Oikawa pouts, “I can’t jump, I can’t run. Lucky I have a big brute like Iwa-chan to save me~”

Iwaizumi snorts but otherwise ignores the comment. His eyes are still hawk-like: watching Kuroo, keeping track of his hands and the revolver on his hip.

“Gross as always~”

“You love it, Tetsuro~”

“What’s all this, then?” He waves a hand at Oikawa’s right leg. Iwaizumi’s fingers goe twitchy again. A second passes. Distant screams of infected rip through the gentle night. Asahi, cautious to interrupt, steps towards them.

“Ah…” Oikawa breathes, “Not with all of us out in the open like this. Not here.”

“Then where?” Asahi asks, matching the quiet tone. Noya joins him in closing their distance, Ushijima, Kenma, Hinata and Kageyama shadowing in silent footsteps. Iwaizumi and Oikawa look in to one another’s eyes. Twitches of faces and aborted hand movements indicate a wordless conversation. Eventually, Oikawa jerks his head towards Asahi and Iwaizumi nods once, turning to the large group.

“Room for three more in that van of yours?” Iwaizumi asks softly. “We’ve had enough of this shit. If you’ve got somewhere to go and something to do, take us with you. We can help, for as long as we’re able.”

“Way to sell yourself, Iwa-chan~” Oikawa teases before Asahi can accept the offer and get them on the move. Iwaizumi kicks him in the back, sending him sprawling against a car. Clanging metal and Oikawa’s small cry of shock draws a range of screamed responses from nearby infected.

“Sorry,” Iwaizumi winces, helping a cackling Oikawa up, “Reflex.”

 

ºººººº

 

Impossibly, the world becomes brighter with Oikawa’s antics and Iwaizumi’s constant reprimanding of said antics, as well as Ushijima’s social ineptness… Or, as Kuroo calls it: ‘the gift that just keeps giving’.

That being said, the trio aren’t without their issues caused by the plague and resulting mobs- that more-so than the infected themselves.

 

Iwaizumi and Oikawa left the largest pack of roamers at the time when they were beginning to establish themselves near Tokyo; Kuroo notes that they’re now known as the Boas, the most powerful group in the area. This was not by their choosing, obviously, seeing as Oikawa held leadership over them. He snipes like nothing else; picking off what Iwaizumi misses as he fights, swinging his dual machetes. They were feared by all still-living beings up until the accident that cost Oikawa his leg.

Oikawa injured himself, twisting his ankle in a bad landing during an escape. The rest of the group abandoned him when he ordered them to- everyone except, of course, Iwaizumi. He stayed and tried to carry Oikawa to safety, regardless of the protests.

Even with Oikawa firing off shots over their shoulders and Iwaizumi running as fast as he could, an infected got its jaws clamped around Oikawa’s ankle, shredded the skin. He fired through its temple three times, demanding through gritted teeth and tears that Iwaizumi drop him and run for it. Iwaizumi threw him down and, just when Oikawa braced himself to say goodbye, his friend took his shirt off, tied it tight around Oikawa’s thigh.

He hacked the bitten area off at the knee.

 

The next thing Oikawa knew, he was at a fireside with Iwaizumi knelt over him, sobbing his eyes dry.

“I’m alive…” Oikawa had croaked, throat dry and jaw stiff from disuse. “I’m alive, Iwa-chan, stop fucking crying.”

Iwaizumi did all he could to stop the bleeding- bandages to stanch it, stitching bits together, tightening the tourniquet –and he prayed to anyone out there that he’d acted fast enough to stop the infection, but did enough to save his friend’s life. After all, if Oikawa were to die from the blood loss, that would have been on him. He would have killed Oikawa if he turned, but it’d have been the infection that took him first. He would not have been able to live with himself, either way.

He would not have been able to live without Oikawa.

Luckily, the stubborn bastard clung to life and Iwaizumi nursed him back to health as slowly as one can during the apocalypse. It was two weeks before Oikawa could be up and moving and shooting again- his first time out and around the town in which Iwaizumi had made camp, they ran in to Ushijima.

 

Spores infected Ushijima’s family while he was out- he had to pick them off from a distance with his father’s handgun.

As Ushijima detailed it, a shadow clouded Noya’s eyes that Asahi had to ward off- taking his hand, squeezing until he was sure neither of them had blood left there.

Ushijima hasn’t touched a firearm since. From there on out, he roamed alone, keeping to uninhabited areas and surviving on very little. He was saved from certain death by Oikawa and Iwaizumi and pledged his life to them, following them and helping Iwaizumi keep Oikawa safe when the zombies got too close. The chainsaw he carries is almost as big as one of his legs- he claims he snagged it from a slaughterhouse belonging to a gang, but Oikawa insists _he_ was the one who found it in a common hardware store.

They trapped and killed a foraging group once, by accident, in the small mountain town, and decided to go on like that until they were forced to move on. Weeks passed, and the group ended up establishing themselves for the foreseeable future, as short as that may’ve been.

 

“Yah, but Ushijima is still an asshole!?” Oikawa snorts after a heated discussion with Kuroo regarding the locations closer to Tokyo. The conversation turned from gangs to survival skills to the reality of Ushijima’s survival techniques, finally settling on Ushijima’s personality change since the outbreak. “He may smile more, but he still hates me~! After all we’ve been through together, ugh. Believe that!”

“Shitty-kawa, no one gives a crap.” Iwaizumi pegs a lolly wrapper at him- it flutters harmlessly to the floor. Kageyama pauses, rock sliding to a halt against one of the heads topping the split-ended spear. Once he's sure the shouting won't lead to fighting, he returns to his sharpening. Beside him, Hinata stuffs a handful of sweets into his mouth, enjoying the banter from a safe distance- from behind his spear-laden ‘Kageyama barricade’. It’s a very safe place to be, take his word for it.

“This one time, I saved his ass by blasting the zombie that was damn _on top of him_ , and he fucking critiques it! Like, you were about to fucking die, be a bit grateful?! _Gosh_ ~”

“I did thank you… but-”

“ _Don’t say it-_ ”

“You should’ve used your handgun for that kill-”

“Oh, _stop_. Just _stop_ fucking criticizing every decision I make, Ushiwaka! Fuck, even if I shot you in the face, you’d still tell me that was a fucking dumb idea!!”

“Well, it would be. I have been essential to your survival-”

“Why are you guys even…” _Still fighting each other like it’s a high school volleyball tournament…_ Asahi doesn’t finish with, it’s clear his query is understood.

“I…” Ushijima grumbles to himself, scratching the back of his neck. He looks down at Asahi working over the maps on the floor, “The world was dying. So I figured I’d… Apologise, at least. For always pushing him to come to my school. It was logical, and what I believed. I did not know how much it would affect him… I may have never known if we had not met in these circumstances. I… I do feel bad about that. And seeing his leg… The way it is… I thought- about all the games he’s played… And how he’ll never…”

“He worries about me~” Oikawa purrs, draping himself over Ushijiima, trying to diffuse his tension, “My _hero_ -”

“ _Oi_.” Iwaizumi grunts, quickly hiding his blush by coughing into his hands. It’s a extremely fake cough, too. Everyone stares at him, with the exception of Kageyama, Asahi, and Noya. Someone has to drive, and Asahi is the only one willing to recalculate their food stores with their three new additions. Kageyama’s preoccupied with sharpening his spears, as always.

“Iwa-chan is jealous…” Hopping down the aisle to his boyfriend, Oikawa allows himself to fall onto the boy. “Don’t worry, you’re my darling~ My one and only~”

“Sickening.” Sighs Iwaizumi, gripping Oikawa’s hair before smoothing it out, running his hands through it in repetitive, soothing motions as he watches the scenery fly by. Kuroo fakes throwing up and strikes up a conversation with Hinata about the newest explosive device he’s invented- this gets everyone going on about techniques and previous fights. Successfully distracted from, Oikawa leans up and kisses Iwaizumi.

“I’m _not_ jealous.” He states as Oikawa buries a hand in his short-cropped hair to keep their faces close, the other coming up to rub soothingly through it. They sit there for a minute, staring, listening to one another’s breaths, hands carding through hair, lingering disbelief of the life they see, hear, and feel- incredulity that will probably never fade.

“I love you.”

“I love you too… I love you way too much.” His other hand brushes Oikawa’s right thigh, running along where the nerves are numbed.

“ _Idiot_.” Oikawa whispers back, just as tenderly, pulling him into another gentle kiss. “My stupid idiot, Iwa-chan.”

 

ºººººº

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soz i hardly edited this \o/


	4. I Know Every Single Face 'Round Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THISI S HAL L O W E EN HALLOWEEN halloween pUMPKINS SCREAM IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT  
> happy halloween yo have another chapter !!!!!!!

ºººººº

 

With two days gone by on the move, town-hopping and camp-raiding, Tsukishima lets out a colossal sigh and turns his cheek into black, silky hair. His eyes remaining on the horizon. Horse is packed down with bundles of food- a few fresh herbs in cut-open cartons for Suga, some bags of dog food for Lev’s… _Friends_.

Riding in to the sunset is never preferred for how it affects vision, nor is it the optimal time of day.

Yamaguchi couldn’t care less, urging Horse to trot on; the small town in the distance is getting larger by the minute. He’s distracted with the reins in his hands: the ears flicking back and forth, taking in noises neither of them could ever hope to hear, reading nature for cues.

With his back to the sun and nestled comfortingly against Yamaguchi’s, Tsukishima watches their tails as he counts through a saddlebag and ticks off days in his head.

Supplies had been running low lately, as their routes were forced to single-day trips by the passing through of a large pack of roamers. Daichi had raised the idea of moving when Tanaka was attacked and chased back to their warehouse base. He’s sprinted by the lower windows, screaming comically for help. Narita helped Yamamoto blow Tanaka’s pursuers to bits, but not without drawing the attention of the entire gang. Daichi began planning for evacuation faster than Suga could rip up the crudely drawn maps, quicker than he could wash the chalk off the floor of the basement they’d retreated their stock- and ‘all evidence of living’ -to.

When the pack held ground for a few weeks, Daichi's grew ever more tense, more paranoid than normal. And then, when they were certain he was going to blow a fuse and take Suga and gun it, the pack moved on.

Tsukishima insisted they got out of there for a proper scavenge, but Yamaguchi knew it was to get away from Daichi.

Finally, they're free to pass through their territory without fearing attack; Yamaguchi spent the first few minutes out at a full gallop, Tsukishima whooping and clinging to him for dear life from behind. It was exactly what they needed. The rest of their camp are perfectly happy to be stuck in one another's company for ages, whereas Yamaguchi and Tsukishima are used to being alone together.

They’d spent their overnight in a shop’s wine cellar, leaving Horse just out of town. Their haul is sure to change Daichi’s mind- not that Suga got his point across by nearly cutting the boy’s voice box out for suggesting such a stupid thing as _leaving_.

But, even after all this time, after everything that's happened, Tsukishima finds it hard to trust in the words of others.

 

“Hey, Yama?”

“Hm?”

“D’you think Daichi’s really gonna end up moving us?”

“Stop worrying about that so much, Tsukki. I’m sure Sugawara won't let him.”

“It was so close, though. And you know him…”

“Tanaka knew he’d lead those fuckers back, we were just lucky he’d thought enough to yell ahead.” When Tsukishima stays silent save for shuffling around the supplies, Yamaguchi sighs and slows Horse from his lazy trot to a walk. They've finally reached the small warehouse on the outskirts of the town; Horse goes on autopilot, heading for the usual spot under the roof of a café with its porch smashed away. _The Crows_ , their camp’s private title, had ripped up the floorboards for extra barricading on their base, leaving a perfect shelter for Horse to occupy. Yamaguchi slides out of the saddle and pulls the latch on the saddle bag on the way, pulling it out of Tsukishima’s reach. There's a decent forty kilograms plus of long life food and drink, but he hefts it over his shoulders like its nothing. “Daichi’s paranoid, Tsukki. He’s never going to _not_ be paranoid. I'm gonna go find him, let him know we're back. Come in once you're relaxed, okay? Take care of Horse.”

Tsukishima grunts and goes about pulling off gear and the remaining bags, rubbing the patches of sweat on Horse. He hums softly to himself, a lyric or two escaping as he undoes the chest holding Horse’s feed.

It’s when he’s cleaning the bit in a water bucket that he hears a scream.

 _Yamaguchi's_ scream.

One hand shoves the bridle into a stack of hay, the other running over the strap of his main holster band- he's on his feet and sprinting for the stair access to the balcony inside the warehouse. Three switches need to be flipped in a pattern before he can open the iron entrance, or else the defence mechanism will activate and he'll be blown to hell and back by Yamamoto’s trigger trap. The corridor holds two of Tanaka’s trip wires, a panel in the wall he has to hit twice, and a pressure plate he only just sees as he races to the balcony. He really should read their traps list every Monday like Suga suggests.

Right as he's passing through the doorframe, he collides with a body- fear has a hold on him, the need to protect his friend is driving him insane, he doesn't know where Yamaguchi is, he needs to make sure he’s safe, he needs to _get to him now or people are going to fucking die-_

“Kei!”

Tsukishima has his best friend pinned to a wall, one pistol pushing at the back of his neck, aimed up to fire right through the skull, “It's _okay_ , Tsukishima, it's _me_ \- Daichi's found some friends, I thought we were being attacked, but- _fuck_ , put it away, I'm fine-”

“ _Damnit, Tadashi_!!” He shouts, holstering the pistol but shoving Yamaguchi against the wall out of anger. “I could have _shot_ you-“

“And that's why I came to stop you, I _knew_ you'd freak out!! Don't get pissed at me for trying to save-“

“And who the fuck is here, anyway?” Now, with Yamaguchi facing him and most certainly _fine_ and _not dead_ , Tsukishima's head levels, and _yes_ : new voices, more noise. Tanaka is way more lively than usual, he notices, and Suga isn't telling him off for once. Simply thinking about Tanaka makes Tsukishima scowl. The last thing they need is additional loud, overexcitable people to attract undead hoards. “Oh, and I thought _Team Idiots_ had the whole place rigged and loaded… How did they get in?”

Yamaguchi giggles. Tsukishima finds that he doesn’t mind the additional shouting so much.

“Come talk to them, then, Tsukki. Daichi's got dinner going, we're all here about to tell stories and stuff- they were just waiting for us to get back.”

“Ah, how kind of them.” He says without emotion. Yamaguchi giggles again, bouncing his shoulder against his friend when he forms a small smile in response.

 

ºººººº

 

“So, we got to this town- like, it’s only a few days out from where we’re headed, right? It _sounded_ like a good place to dump most of our shit if- _if_ we made it back! And- we didn’t expect much, but there were a few of the fuckers knocking around in the centre of town! So- there I was, doing my thing, distracting the infected bastards as these guys picked them off, and who the fuck do I run in to!? My old senpais!!” Noya wraps an arm around Suga’s neck and strikes out to kick Daichi in the shin. The short boy is tucked in between Suga and Asahi, all sharing a rectangular storage crate in the circle of various containers they’d sat at to eat dinner. “Fucking luck, that is. Kuroo couldn't tell us anything, Oikawa and Iwaizumi didn't know where you ended up- we thought you were dead for sure!! I’m so glad you’re alive!”

Kuroo insists that he didn’t doubt that they were alive and ‘flourishing’ for a second: he and Kenma are sitting between Daichi, Suga, Asahi, and Noya’s crate, and the one occupied by what appears to be a _child_. And, to Kenma’s unrelenting intrigue: _dogs_. _Many_ dogs. At least five dogs, moving around under the nest of blankets surrounding all sides crate other than the one facing the middle of the circle. He pokes at the edge, trying to lift it to see.

A very human hand shoots out alongside a clawed paw.

Kenma reels back, horrified.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi are sharing a cooler box on the other side of the child’s dog-block; Oikawa sipping at what appears to be red wine from a noodle can. They watch on in their shared judgmental silence, Ushijima nestled with his back against the cooler, head lolled back between the other two boys, snoring loudly.

“Yes, it was very scary, wasn’t it? But you kept going anyway,” Suga smiles, “That's what I hoped you'd do, Asahi.”

“And me, and me!!” Tanaka is yelling as he throws another rug over himself and Yamamoto- a boy from Kuroo and Kenma’s team who matches Tanaka in intensity and vocal capacity. The two are settled at the foot of a pile of crates throughout which his three classmates- Chikara, Narita, and Kinoshita –are arranged; all buried in their own blankets and sleeping bags to ward away the cold. Asahi, because he’s close enough, pats Tanaka on the shoulder as he crows: “Us second-years stayed alive, huh?! And look! We all came back together! How awesome!!”

“You _all_ went to Karasuno together?!” Hinata exclaims, sprawled out over Kageyama who’d flopped himself down to the side of Oikawa and Iwaizumi at the first chance he got. “ _And_ on the volleyball team?! Wow! That’s where I was gonna go! Kageyama, too! Tell em, Kageya!!”

“… Yeah, I was going to go to Karasuno.” The taller boy’s eyes are closed, his body fatigued from the sudden rush of _new people in close quarters_. He’s got no idea how Ushijima feels, but judging by the snores, he’s already been overwhelmed and let the exhaustion take his body.

“You both played, huh?” Daichi asks, any and all suspicion at the younger, unknown pair fades when Hinata begins going on about volleyball; the input from Kuroo and Kenma only helps him along in trusting them. Suga mentions how Tsukishima and Yamaguchi were headed for the school, everyone ‘ooh’ing and ‘ahh’ing, leading to Tsukishima heading outside to get more chocolate from the saddlebags they’re yet to unpack, shying from the unwanted attention. This leaves Yamaguchi alone on the unfolded cardboard box they’d set down as a temporary mattress, close- but not too close –to both Tanaka and Yamamoto and the second-year stack, and the two boys they would’ve been first years alongside.

 _It figures,_ Asahi thinks, _if fate put us together to begin with, why should that change later on?_

“Daichi, Suga.” Asahi mumbles, his grin yet to fade since running in to the pair on the streets. “How did you guys end up here?”

“Ah,” Suga begins, shifting, settling back against Daichi’s chest. “We were split up, when it happened. Daichi’s family packed to run for the nearest ocean port, and he wasn’t allowed to leave them to find me… But we ended up together, so. That was okay.” The furrow in Daichi’s brow and the way he chews on the flesh of his fingertips tells Asahi that _no, that was not okay at all and is probably why Daichi is the way he is now,_ but Suga continues in a light tone, slapping Daichi’s hands away from his mouth. “We got chased by hoards and hoards… And with no weapons at the time, we could only keep moving. We had a day of relief when we managed to sneak through a well-armed group’s defences, cutting off whatever had been following. I grabbed the first weapons I saw and figured were best.”

He twangs the rope of Daichi’s bow, hung across his back even whilst sitting and chatting with old friends.

“Bows and arrows. Silent, deadly. Turns out, we’re pretty good. And, with no short supply of targets, we only got better, huh,” Giggles Suga, “It’s a good setup. We attack what we can, flee when they get too close. Good thing all that training has gone to good use in the end of the world. I was impressed, by the way, Noya! Your parkour is awesome; but- then again, I wasn’t very surprised. You’ve always been far better, physically, than the rest of us! Where- oh, that’s right. Daichi and I- we set up here, unknowingly taking the building over from Yamaguchi and Tsukishima. They hid from us, but decided to confront us when they heard about where we came from. Daichi wanted to kill them on the spot, but at the time, we needed all the help we could get. Starved, exhausted- we needed someone else to watch out backs. Then, Tsukishima introduced us to Horse, and our scope got bigger, our chances of surviving rocketed. So, that was the start of it. We had no idea that Tanaka, Narita, Chikara, and Kinoshita- they were following us. Ever since we left Miyagi- they’d been on our trail.”

Chikara throws some popcorn at Noya. It lands in Asahi’s mane of hair, getting lost in there forever.

“Yeah, and where were _you_ , you idiot? Second-years were taking a stand!”

Noya reaches impulsively for Asahi’s hand. All the smile and energy is drained from his tiny body, though it’s hard to see in the darkness of the warehouse. Asahi doesn’t falter once, to Noya’s relief.

“I… I got caught up... I did try, Chikara, but… I…”

Suga, keen to keep anyone from getting upset, speaks up before a yawning silence can overcome the atmosphere following Noya’s downhearted words.

“It’s okay, Chikara- we all have our reasons- it happened so fast, so it’s understandable that we got separated. Let’s just be glad we’re all here, now!”

“Yeah!” Noya cheers, enlivened somewhat, “I wanna hear more about you guys, Suga! What about these kids? Who’s the Russian freak and the tiny guy?!” The child’s eyes snap up at Noya’s words. He and Noya stare off for a moment. “You’re good! I like you!”

“You can tell that just by looking at him?” Asahi laughs gently. “You never cease to surprise me, Yuu.”

“I’m gon _na shank him_!” Comes a yell from the blankets.

A head pops out, as do feet from the other side of the blankets around the box- his body is _that long_ , it shocks Noya into silence. It’s another young kid, glaring furiously at Noya, other lumps under the blanket shifting agitatedly behind him. Kenma curls up further, squirming his way into Kuroo’s lap.

“Shut it.” The child groans, kicking the pale-haired boy in the face and getting in the way of his glaring. “No shanking anyone.”

“Ah…” Intrudes Suga, “We found these guys only a little while ago. So… Me and Daichi, and Tsukishima and Yamaguchi- we go out on runs to other towns to, you know. Get supplies, keep ourselves going. Yamaguchi has a plan for a garden, but that’s still a little while off... Uh, and. Sometimes, groups pass or come near here- so we raid them. And this- we can’t do it in our pairs, so all four of us go. That leaves those idiots-” He indicates to the pyramid-like settlement of second-years, “-to defend the place. Which- is _fine_ for everything except… Actual face-to-face combat. Tanaka and Yamamoto are good at bombs and organising defensive traps, and the other three are great at running the place, out-positing, scouting, and so on. But fighting… Not so much.”

“Hey!” Shouts Narita, although it’s fairly muffled through his thick, pink blanket. “I can take you on, get outta here, ya damn liar!”

“Right. Anyway… Yeah- Noya, you are right. These two are only _kids_. Yaku is thirteen, only a year older than Lev, and he’d been trying his best to protect them both with only a- what was it, Yaku?”

“A woodaxe, and a machine rifle I stole from a dead army man.”

“Yeah, he-”

“I gave the armour to Lev, and we scavenged off of the dead and stole from bigger groups to stay alive. It was tough, but. When we stole from you guys… It was when we thought everyone was out, right? But- we got captured by _those_ _idiots_ ,” Imitating Suga, Yaku points at the second-years- a range of offended squeaks arise, bringing a childish grin to his face, “And they couldn’t kill us because. Tanaka-san said because they had to wait until ‘the leaders’ got back, the rest said it was because we were ‘just kids’.”

Daichi bursts into sudden laughter. Warm, hearty.

“We were just impressed that it was a pair of kids that got through Tanaka and Yamamoto’s defences. Plus, it was safe to say that by the time me and Suga got back, everyone was a little endeared by you two.”

Lev smiles.

Noya swears he can see a tail thumping on the ground near the boy’s behind.

“Really? We’re pretty awesome, hum, Yaku-chan?”

“Don’t call me ‘chan’, _bastard_!”

“So, uh…” Asahi pops in again, “What’s with the…?” He points at the lumps, rustling and snuffling. Lev’s beam grows.

“Want me to show you?”

“ _No_!” The collective group of second-years cry, but it was too late- Asahi had already nodded.

Lev lets out a piercing whistle.

Yaku lifts his legs to his chest, avoiding the pandemonium of _dog_ that torrents out from beneath the blankets around his little island of solitude. Noya and Hinata yelp in excitement, Kenma and Kuroo in fear, and Kageyama in pain when Hinata’s elbows press in to his stomach as the red-head struggles to get to his feet.

Lev whistles again, and the dogs come to a halt, looking at their master. He points directly at Asahi, and lets out a deep-voiced, wordless yell.

They jump in to action, pounding towards Asahi.

“What- oh no- _ah!!”_ He goes down under the weight of two, knocked fully off of the crate and onto his back as they all take their turn to pounce on him before return to Lev’s side, sitting obediently for their next command. The group is in hysterics- save for Kenma, Kuroo, and Ushijima –and once the line of dogs return to their master, Hinata is on his feet, waving his arms in the air.

“Do _me_!! _Do me next_!!”

Lev cackles and repeats the process: whistle for attention, point and shout. Hinata is cackling, taken out by the first pounce, cackling as dog by dog stops over to jump on him before running off.

“That’s gotta be bad for stocks, right?” Iwaizumi, ever the thinker, directs his question to Suga seeing as everyone else is too preoccupied, laughing at Hinata; who is crawling over to Lev and his dogs, begging if he can play with them.

“Yeah, keeping up with five dogs would be pretty taxing, but Lev manages on his own. Plus, their food at the moment isn’t exactly in demand, so it’s easy to come by. _Horse_ , on the other hand-

Tsukishima slams through a door, the scowl on his face enough to send the dogs crawling back under the blankets.

“Talk shit about my horse and I’ll shoot you dead.”

Suga chucks a knife at him, the blade singing past his ear and digging in to the wood of the doorframe as he’s kicking the door closed. Neither of them even blink, no one but the newcomers paying Suga’s reprimand for rudeness any mind.

“As opposed to…?” Hinata asks dumbly, sat cold and alone on the floor, looking longingly at the dog-lumps under the blanket. Tsukishima’s snarl turns amused.

“Shooting you somewhere it’ll hurt but not be enough to kill you, leaving you bleeding out and in agony for hours before you eventually die from the blood loss.”

“Charming.” Kageyama growls. He’s still flat on the floor, but they can hear the scrunched up expression in his venomous voice. “And what is it, exactly, you’re good at?”

Tsukishima takes a seat behind Yamaguchi, fiddling with a clasp behind his back, beneath his long coat. It clicks, and he unravels three lengths of leather from his torso, tossing them to the floor in the middle of the circle. Each strap holds six holsters with multiple types of small firearms. He then undoes a buckle at the front of his jeans, throwing out an equally pistol-laden belt to join the rest.

“Shooting.” He grunts. Simple, to the point, the demonstration alone gaining the attention of the entire circle.

“Tsukishima is very good at shooting,” Yamaguchi boasts, “Right, guys?”

“He is,” Yamamoto answers immediately, “And _you’re_ fucking _scary as shit_ when he’s in danger, you know that?!”

“What, Yamaguchi?” Hinata questions. Looking the cheery, freckled, lanky boy up and down, he shrugs. “He doesn’t look so scary…”

“He’s got these axes and, like. These tomahawks, it’s _freaky_. He’s scary accurate with ‘em, too! And _sure_ , he’s quiet and peaceful and innocent _at the moment_ , but the second- _the second_ his lil’ Tsukki here is in shit, he’s a damn _beast_ with no remorse.” Yamaguchi chuckles, playing with the frayed sleeves of his shirt, unbothered as Yamamoto keeps going. “Yeah, he _slaughtered_ the group they used to be with, because they went to kill Tsukishima for food! He just- _killed_ the whole lot of them!”

“Woah!” Hinata cries, still squinting at Yamaguchi. “You don’t look freaky at all, that’s so cool!”

“Dumbass.” Kageyama whispers, whacking Hinata on the back of the head.

“We travelled for ages, the two of us. The group we were with- they resorted to cannibalism really early on.” Yamaguchi explains, not a shred of discomfort in his voice. “Tsukishima freed a horse from a collapsing barn, and he insisted we bring it with us. He didn’t want to ride it, at first, so I had to. He just walked alongside- after a while, he started getting on behind me, facing back so he could make sure nothing- no one –was following us. He was really smart, too. Taught Horse to run off at signs of trouble, to get out of sight- and to come back, too. He’s really clever.”

“… Thanks, Yamaguchi.”

“No problem, Tsukki.”

They smile at each other for a brief moment; most of the Crows in shock at the sight of Tsukishima _actually, honestly smiling_.

Ushijima seems to choke on his own spit, gagging and waking himself up. His head shakes for a moment, then he slams it back down, promptly returning to chest-rumbling snores.

Oikawa cackles so hard he has to put his wine down and lean his chest between his thighs, struggling to breathe- his struggle alone triggers everyone else into laughter. Iwaizumi blushes and pats his back awkwardly.

The conversation drifts from topic to topic, person to person, each giving what they’re willing to share and nothing more. Eventually, they coerce Noya to getting the burner from their van. Even though it’s parked just outside one of the secret entrances to the warehouse, Asahi insists on going with him.

They return with little stovetop- everyone shuffles in, leaving their seats to crowd around the flames. Oikawa even wakes Ushijima and helps the boy drag his helpless self into the reach of the heat; he lays across Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s laps, relaxing easily to sleep once more.

“… Asahi, I’ve… Um, I’ve been meaning to ask…” Suga begins, stopping when he’s unable to shake the concentration of the rest of the boys.

“What is it, Suga?”

“Well, I. I noticed… You’ve got yourself set for a big-looking haul in that van, and… You said that you picked up these guys, but. Never- went beyond why, or… Uhm. What I’m trying to ask, is… Were are you guys going?”

Noya catches Asahi’s eye, but Oikawa is faster.

“I suggest you explain. What we talked about last night... It would be so much easier with these guys, don’t’cha think?”

“… Noya?” Asahi asks. Despite Oikawa’s input, he still wants Noya’s say.

“ _We’re saving the world_ ,” Noya claims, quiet and steady and intense, “That’s what we’re doing, Suga. We’re going to blow up that city in America, and we’re going to save this world, even if we die trying. That’s why we stopped here- we have the maps and plans in the car, so if we didn’t survive, hopefully someone else could have found it and picked up from where we left off…”

“What are you doing?” Daichi asks, eyes flicking back and fourth between Asahi and Noya. “Exactly… What do you have planned?”

“Asahi. Go.” Noya points at the door, holding Daichi’s stare. “Go get the map. A pen. And the torch. Take-”

“I’ll go with him.” Kageyama whispers, a rare smile brightening his face.

“… Okay.”

 

The grin that breaks out over Daichi’s face when Asahi rolls out their map and begins running though their plan… It’s is something splintered, free-reined and too-eager, sick of being broken over and over, plastered on too many times.

Noya’s is an exact mirror.

 

“Well of course we're coming with you,” Suga states after Asahi is done, indicating to himself and Daichi, “End of discussion.” His tone holds no room for argument- unsurprisingly, no one dares to defy him.

“We- I'm definitely following you guys, but… I'm pretty sure everyone here is too loyal to you to let you do it by yourselves.” Tanaka adds, soothed for once. The way Asahi explained was not too grand, not too straightforward yet not overcomplicated.

Arrive a few streets out from the driveway to the Fort. Scout the area, observe the building. Plan who’s doing what, how they’re going to reach the floor with the controls, get the time they need to enter the codes, the target, and wait out the launch sequence in order to enter the final affirmative to launch the nukehead. He even has Tsukishima nodding along by the end of it.

“With Tanaka gone- Yamamoto too, needles to say –the base will fall apart. We wouldn't have much choice, even if we weren't so indebted to you two.” Yaku supplies, quickly joining whatever sort of campaign this is going to be, however it’s going to end.

“Come on now, you guys can go find-“

“Daichi.” Yaku takes hold of his arm.

“We’ll be with you until the end.” Lev says. “It’s the very least we- anyone here- could ever do…”

“… Well, okay.” Asahi breathes. “Tomorrow, we’ll… Pack. Head out. We stop in this town here,” He points to a location on the map, “Then it’s down this straight here to avoid those settlements that are in Tiger territory. We won’t be stopping- we’ll have to take turns driving, but it’ll pass the distance far faster and safer than it will stopping. Then, this little pass here-” He jabs a circled path of road, “-overnight, and coming in to the Fort’s town in the morning. Spend the day scouting, clearing what we can, as quiet as we can. As the sun starts going down, we strike.“

“Then… Boom.” Noya whispers reverently, eyes alive.

“ _Boom_.” Hinata echoes.

Tanaka and Yamamoto shake one another excitedly.

“Boom.” Asahi agrees, smiling down at Noya.

 

ºººººº


	5. Never Quite Thought...

ºººººº

 

Having the seats mostly taken, in any prior situation, would’ve made for cramped travelling. Thankfully, five day’s worth of food for eighteen people fits neatly under the back row, and the weapons of each individual are part of the space they take up. It’s a new kind of hell, Asahi finds, driving with this lot in the back.

Nevertheless- it’s nothing compared to what’s to come- what Noya spots, wandering along the side of the highway as they make the last stretch to their final stopover.

 

The pair they see are harmlessly wandering along the road… If harmless were to carry a pair of _ginormous_ machine guns and wear an explosive launcher on its back. Just as Asahi starts slowing down, trying to figure out how the _fuck_ to get around this, Noya yelps:

“There’s no use, Asahi, they’ve seen us!! Gun it, gun it!!” The person besides the one carrying the glinting weapons of mass destruction turns to the sound of the van as it trundles, as it groans with the effort Asahi forces. “Go, go-!!”

“Wait- that’s- _that’s_ -!!” Before Kenma can stop him, Kuroo is throwing his window open, leaning out into the wind, right into the aim of the guy as he swivels, aiming the machine guns at the van.

“ _Bro_?!” He screams, fast-approaching the pair.

The machine guns, to everyone’s shock, _lower_ until their ends hit the ground. Asahi slows on instinct, despite Noya’s objections and moves to step on the accelerator himself. He explains, hushed, that it’s not just them, anymore. This isn’t their fight alone, and nor is it _their_ _group_. Noya settles, disgruntled but interested by the large man they’re approaching.

“ _No way_!!” Machine-gun man screams at the van as it’s laboring to slow. As van and man pass one another, he squawks: “ _Bro_!!?!”

“Is that-!” Yamamoto cries next, smashing his face against his window.

“ _Oh fuck_ ,” Oikawa shouts over the top of Yamamoto, a feat most would find impossible, “It’s actually _him_!”

“No, _no- fuck,_ pull over!! _Stop the bus_!!!” Kuroo screeches. Asahi is already leaving the road- not without indicating –and skidding to a stop in the gravel. “ _Bokuto Koutarou, you piece of shit_!!”

“It _is_ you!!” Bokuto drops his machine guns completely, racing for the bus. His hair has grown out, uncut, the ends retaining their white-grey, is a little yellowed and reddened, stained by age and blood.

Akaashi heaves a sigh visible from a where the van has stopped a hundred odd meters away, hefting the machine guns onto his own shoulders with ease.

“Fucking finally.”

“ _Ahhh bro_!!!!”

“ _Bro_!!!!!” Kuroo is screaming back, reaching under his seat, pulling the boots Asahi realizes Kuroo had been holding on to since he’d joined them in the bus. He waves them over his head as he opens the door, jumps out of the bus, runs towards Bokuto. “ _I got shoes for you, bro_!!!”

“ _Oh my god_!” They stop a meter away from each other, Kuroo throwing the shoes at Bokuto. Bokuto sees them light up when they hit the ground and gasps. “Bro, those are _so sick_!!” He kicks his worn sandals off and steps in to them, knotting the laces with the undefiled swiftness of a school kid. “ _Thank you_ , bro!”

“No probs, bro! No problem, just- hug me once you’ve got that shit off…” He flaps his hand at the impressive vest laden with explosives that Bokuto’s got on.

“Ah- right!” He sheds the jacket without hesitation, Akaashi springing to grab it before it hits the ground, managing to hook it on the end of one of the guns.

“Fucking moron…” He grouches as Bokuto leaps into Kuroo’s arms, wrapping his legs around his friend’s hips and hugging him fiercely. “Watch the fucking rocket launcher- ah whatever…” He bypasses them- leaving Kuroo to avoid touching the RPG Bokuto his strapped to his back, heading for the bus. “Sup, Kenma?”

Kenma smiles a little smile at him as he boards, removing the vest and hanging it on the back of his chair before helping Akaashi unload the guns and stow them somewhere safe.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, man!! I’m so glad you’re okay!” Bokuto is crying, Kuroo responding in kind.

“Good to see you, Akaashi. They’re so dramatic, aren’t they?” Kenma drones, Akaashi’s sigh familiar and comforting to him. “How’s he been?”

“Bokuto-san loves shooting things and gets too worked up, it’s halved my lifespan, I can’t stand it. He’s killed people on our own side, before, felt no remorse for it at the time, too… Still… Still hasn’t, really. But, honestly, he isn’t the worst out there. And he’s still the same, more or less, when he’s not fighting. We had to make a run for it when he ‘accidentally’ blew up the leader of our old gang.”

“You guys were in a _gang_?!” Yamamoto exclaims. “Wow, how did Bokuto handle that-”

“Well, he _didn’t_ , if you were listening,” Akaashi mutters harshly, “End of story- Bokuto-san, get on the bus!!”

“Yes, Akaashi!! Come on, bro! Show me your sweet ride!”

“Thanks, bro, thanks! But- it’s not mine.”

“Hey, hey, _hey_!!” He hoots as he follows Kuroo into the bus, taking in the new faces- Daichi and Oikawa’s he knows, and he spares them a more polite grin. “This is wicked, bro! Who’re you travelling with?!”

“I’m pretty sure we’re all volleyballers, like, it’s fucking great- that there is Hinata, and that’s Yamaguchi, and that’s-”

“ _Ushijima_!! My man!”

“Ayo, yeah- and that’s Noya, and that’s-”

The second Bokuto’s eyes meet Iwaizumi’s, his smile drops.

Iwaizumi straightens his back, but that doesn’t seem to be enough for him in their stare down. He gets up, trying to look intimidating at his full height. They eye off each other’s muscles, lingering on the bulging biceps.

“… Machetes are heavier than these pieces of shit.”

Oikawa is torn between laughing and scolding Iwaizumi when he boasts and kicks at the machine guns.

“Bullshit, man,” Bokuto sneers back, “You’ve never lifted a big gun in your…” Iwaizumi bends and snatches the handle of Bokuto’s gun, wielding it easily with one arm, “… Life- oh, _yeah_?! Well! Guess there’s only _one way_ to settle this!”

“Kou-chan, no…” Akaashi whispers, Kuroo overriding him and egging Bokuto on with a brash:

“Yes!! _Go, go, let’s go, let’s go, Brokuto_!”

 

They settle it with an arm wrestling match, naturally- complete with the whole van cheering, divided to cheer the boys on. Some three minutes in, Asahi kicks the van back into drive.

Over ten minutes later, Iwaizumi wins. Even more confounding is that Bokuto doesn’t go into one of his slumps that used to overtake him when he’d played volleyball- of course, it’s only Kuroo and Yamamoto that care about this, and are the only ones who drop the matter when Akaashi glares at them. ‘Don’t ask’, clearly, warning the boys to back off and take it for what it is. That’s easier done nowadays, in a world where everything isn’t about the next play or lunch break or warm bed at home.

 

Akaashi silently approaches Asahi, skirting as best he can around Noya and his protective aura over the driver.

“Sorry, we- those two are-”

“It’s alright.” Asahi is gentle- maybe it’s from being around his old team, old friends, or just from feeling the end in sight –and he doesn’t take his eyes off of the road ahead. “We could use some extra help. You’ve got food?”

“Enough for two for a couple of weeks.”

“Even better… Um.” He glances away from the road, nodding Akaashi’s way and letting their eyes meet as long as he dares to go without watching where he’s going. “Welcome to… The party, I guess.”

Noya cackles.

“Smooth, Asahi-san, smooth. _Here_ , come here, new guy- _everyone listen up_! Let’s start talking about our plan- we’ll fill you and shout-y over there in on what we’re doing.”

“Like you can talk, Noya.” Asahi laughs.

“I’m not _that_ bad, am I? Am I… Asahi?”

Thankfully, Akaashi groans and saves Asahi the effort of salvaging the discussion.

“No one is that bad… Noya, was it? Now, show me what we’re on to, here…”

 

ºººººº

 

Dinner, although cold, was savored.

It may’ve been one of the few final meals they’d get.

“We get up with the sun.” Asahi repeats himself for what feels like the thousandth time. “We go in, survey what we’re dealing with. Chose a meeting point, split and sweep the town. Meet up at the point, eat, rest up for the Fort.”

“So get some sleep, everyone, alright?” Suga asks, though it’s more of a command. “You’re gonna need it.”

 

ºººººº

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo yo ! if u have time/can be fucked, check out the series that this is in, theres just a bunch of haikyuu aus woot


	6. We Could Lose It All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... Dogs always know ...  
>  Thanks for sticking with this till the end- this last chapter is long to make up for the last one, hope you enjoy !!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALSO LMAO THIS IS DEDICATED TO MAIOKOE BECAUSE YOUR COMMENT MADE ME SMILE A LOT INSIDE WOOT

ºººººº

 

“That rooftop, there.” Noya points at a flat-looking building along the third-nearest street to where a road leads up to the Fort. “Everyone got it?”

The group behind him murmurs in agreement.

Daichi steps up beside Noya, helping him scan the city.

“It’s a bit broken up. The map’s accurate, though. We’ll go with what we laid out before. Suga, Yaku, Lev, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, and I will go with the west end. Bokuto… Take Akaashi, Asahi, Narita, and Kenma, and go up the middle. Kageyama, Iwaizumi, Ushijima, Kinoshita, Chikara… You guys have the east end. Oikawa and Kuroo, you’ll take the roofs and give the middle cover fire when they need it, and keep an eye ahead for somewhere to camp out if we need it. Hinata and Noya will be our runners, decoys, scouts, whatever you wanna call it- one of you take east, the other west. Bring them to the middle where Oikawa can get them. Keep it loud, keep each other in your minds as you go- we don’t want to make this a hoard situation. Got it?”

It’s nature, the way they all chant ‘yes’ together.

 

“The dogs?” Lev asks after everyone has dissipated.

“The dogs stay here, Lev.” Suga responds, ruffling the kid’s silvery hair. It’s no comfort- the wobble is obvious when he speaks:

“… Okay… I’ll tell them to wait…”

 

ºººººº

 

“Yo, Daichi.”

“Noya?”

He sits by the older boy, starting to tie his laces as Daichi is finishing his off. The sun’s burning high in the sky and Daichi can feel the sweat slicking his back already, unable to hide much of his skin in his own shadow. His hands fumble with the knots, distracted by the thought of dabbing his shirt against back, shifting his quiver, counting his arrows.

“We’re on the same page, right?”

“… The plan-”

“Your family.”

It’s an immediate reaction, and he _hates_ it: he looks around for Suga.

Suga is too far away to call without getting everyone else’s attention.

“If- I don’t want to know explicitly,” Noya continues, “I just. Asahi knows this, but I thought it’d- we could clear some air up.”

“What air?” Daichi’s eyes shift nervously. He picks at the skin of his wrists and gnaws on his fingertips, forgetting all about the sweat and the shadows and the sun. “There’s no air to clear up, what are you on about, Noya, ahaha-”

“I know you killed them. You know I killed mine, but. I just need to know, from one person to another, how… How you turned out… Like this… Because I- I’m losing my fucking mind… I can’t… _Live_ with what I did… How did you turn out… So… ”

Noya stops, staring hard at the cracked mud under his boots. If he glares hard enough, the shine of the sun’s light forms a pool at his feet and he can see the reflection he’s been avoiding for months. His fingers work unthinkingly, knotting the threadbare laces up. He tries to remember the last time he stole a pair of shoes, but the days are blurred more so than usual.

“Okay? How did I- is that what you… Noya… I’ve- I told Suga, and that was… I hope you understand. I don’t want to- _talk_ about this, _shit_. I don’t want to remember it, _ever_ , especially not before- this, not when we’re probably all about to die-”

“We’re not gonna fucking _die_ , Daichi, we’re already dead-”

“You’re _obsessed_ with that notion, Noya, I’m- you’re okay, we’re-”

“ _Do I look fine to you_? Oh, _don’t tell me_ , all you needed was good ol’ Suga-chan to cling the fuck on to, and everything was _magically fixed-_ ”

“It wasn’t that easy, Noya, and you know it!” Daichi snaps, his shout shocking Noya in to snapping one of his frayed laces. Noya clicks his tongue at it, taking the shoe off and holding it up to inspect. “It’s never that easy but, shit, _sorry_ if it hurts you so much that I got _help_ from-”

“We’ve all killed people here, Daichi. And I mean _people_ , not infected-”

“Does it seem like I care, anymore? Because I _don’t_. I don’t care if the last person I killed was alive or dead- no one _can_ , or they’ll wind up dead, too.”

“Then why are you so hung up on what you did to your family?”

“They were my _family_ , Noya-”

“Yeah, but you still _killed_ them.” Noya casually faults him, lobs the shoe over the edge of the roof, stripping himself of the other one and tossing it as well. He meets Daichi eye for eye, and the older boy looks away first. “Which means you couldn’t have held them any higher than the walking shitpiles we call _zombies_ , and the far bigger pieces of shit we call fellow _humans_.”

“… I still loved them. My little sister, my mum, my… Dad… I loved them.”

“Hm, and love made you blow their brains out?”

“… Yes.”

“Not love _for_ them, I suppose.” Daichi, wary spares a glance in Suga’s direction. Noya laughs at him- deep, low and dark. “When?”

“ _When_?”

“When did you-”

“It had only been a few hours, the panic was still- the infected were popping up everywhere, and they- _they_ -”

“Had they turned?”

“Noya-”

“ _Had they turned_ , Daichi?”

“… _No_.” Daichi digs his fingers in to the back of his neck, his other hand racing back to his mouth, sharp teeth biting down on the skin beside a fingernail and ripping off a small piece. Blood wells to the surface and spurts over his lips, running down his chin. “No. They hadn’t.”

“But you killed them because they were taking you away from him.”

“ _Yes_.”

“Good.”

“Wh-”

“It was the end of the world. They would have died, anyway- _could have_ , but that’s _barely_ a chance. No one would have _ever_ fucking blamed you for that-”

“How… How the _fuck_ can you say that? I shot my father seven times and slit my mothers throat and my _sister_ \- I can still hear it, still _see everything I did_ \- and you’re here saying that that’s _good_?”

“The plague hadn’t even hit.”

“… Huh?”

Noya gets up, smiling over his shoulder at Daichi. His eyes are hollow and his words worse, his smirk showing teeth that clench like nails and drill bits rusted in the rain, overgrowing in to one another.

“India, maybe China… I don’t remember where it had gotten to, at the time- it was _close_ , that’s all I can retain... But. I knew it was _me_ or _them_ \- and I knew they were scared.” He cracks his fingers, twisting his head this way and that in sharp, bird-like moves to pop his neck. “I wasn’t going to _give_ them the chance.”

Nishinoya walks away and Daichi is left floored, stomach rumbling uneasily.

Noya had always been a wild card, even in high school, even before this shitty version of the old world settled. But Daichi, even as both a friend and an elder, hasn’t the faintest clue on what to do about this information.

Maybe he’s not supposed to do anything- _it’s possible that Noya simply needed someone to know. Asahi does, certainly, yet… What was the purpose of that? A show of strength, of weakness, of fright? As he did with his family… Killing them for, what, his own chances of survival? To spare them? To save them from this… This hellish future? Or was it his own way of… Some kind of warning? Is Noya going to do something soon, something crazy like… Like kill himself, or kill Asahi, or kill me and Suga and all of us because- that’s what he’s convinced himself he is, a killer, a murderer, good for nothing but a boy who’s first resort is to kill the ones he loves and last resort to kill the one he hates most: himself-_

“Daichi, stop biting your fucking fingers.”

 _Suga_.

Suga’s warm arms come around him, squeezing him tight.

“Everything will be okay, Daichi, please… Is there anything I can do? Because we’re about to head. We _need_ you, Captain.”

Daichi leans in to Suga briefly before pushing himself to his feet, walking towards the stairs leading down to the street.

“I’m okay, I’m… We should get going, right?”

“Right.”

_Keep going, because that’s the only thing you know, now._

_Keep moving, because the world will never move to meet you- never would have before, never will again. If anything, it will push back and back and force you down._

_‘Keep running, stupid boy- because when I find you, I will rip you apart in front of that pretty boy of yours and-’_

“Daichi-san!” If Noya was affected in any way by their conversation, he hides it perfectly. “Ready to kick some zombie ass?!”

“You bet, Noya.”

He watches Noya and Hinata scramble down the stairs, bickering and racing, parting ways on the pavement. He watches Oikawa, balanced against Kuroo, hobble along a strip of roof, hefting the sniper from over his shoulder, eye to the sight like a fifth- _fourth_ –limb to check out the area before them.

Hinata’s excited cries, a single shot from Oikawa’s gun.

**_BANG!!_ **

Then, everyone’s moving- weapons drawn, judgments focused, tense and ready for a fight.

 

_Noya didn’t give them a chance… Was that selfishness, or out of protection?_

_Maybe Noya is giving this a last chance- that’s what the mission could mean to him… Maybe this is a shot at redemption._

_Maybe he’s trying to live with himself just a little longer to do something worth enough…_

 

ºººººº

 

The infected boy snarls up at him, struggling to shake matted brown locks out of his eyes.

“Shame, you’re not fully gone yet. I’m… I’m so sorry, but I can’t let you…” Oikawa lifts the point of his sniper, finger taut on the trigger-

“ _No_!!”

A boy jumps in between the injured one on the floor and Oikawa’s sniper rifle with a desperate cry, his pale-reddish hair dreadlocked, equally as disgusting as the bitten boy. Hair and lifeless eyes aside, everything about the frame and presence is familiar.

Finally, it clicks.

Oikawa drops the gun with a muted scream.

“ _Yahaba_?!!”

“Oikawa-san!?”

“The _fuck_ are you-”

“ _Doing here_ , what the _fuck_!!”

Their hug is short-lived, as Oikawa has to call the rest up and make sure they don’t shoot Kyotani. He kneels beside the bitten boy, holding a hand out and hovering it over his shoulder.

“Oh, Kyoken-chan, what _happened_ to you…”

Kyotani snarls at him- against his will –and is fast to bite his tongue, fingers curling in to his thighs until his nails break skin.

“We made an attempt on that fort over there- some scientists we were travelling with, they had ideas, and- Kyotani wanted to go straight away, but we…” Yahaba frowns, eyeing up the rest of Oikawa’s group as they flood the rooftop.

“What the fuck…” Iwaizumi stutters, stepping into his place behind Oikawa, one hand on the boy’s shoulder to keep him from getting to close to Kyotani.

“… There… There were to many of them for just the two of us.” Mumbles Yahaba, stroking a hand through Kyotani’s hair, pacifying his whines as he winds up around the bite-wound on his forearm, his whole body shuddering against the parasite in his brain. “He got bit, then he fell down a- there were stairs, and glass and- and I _couldn’t_ do it alone. We _had_ to get back. We made it to this roof and barricaded ourselves up- I did what I could to keep them out… No has come by here in the past few days, though. I didn’t know whether to be grateful or terrified-”

“ _Woah_ , wait… He’s been holding up against the infection for _days_?” Oikawa asks, standing up as Noya bows down in his place, peering in to Kyotani’s bloodshot eyes. Teeth nip right by Noya’s nose and Yahaba’s hand shoots out to cover it. “What’s with that?”

“It’s weakening, I think… I… I _hope_ , at least.”

“… Can you help us, then?”

“You’re- here for the fort- did- did you guys met Gumi- is she still-”

“ _Those_ _two_ did,” Oikawa points at Noya- still staring _in_ _to_ Kyotani -and Asahi, who is passing out food to some of the others, “We’re all tagging along.”

“That’s… Azumane, from… Karasuno? What- huh, and Sawamura- and…?”

“It’s… A pretty good one, actually, I’ll trade it for what you know of the building?”

“Blackmailing a kouhai, never thought you’d stoop so low, Oikawa-”

“You know- times change, Yabaha!” He laughs, “Desperate times call for-”

“ _Ngh_ \- Haba- _ah_ , h-help… _Ah_ …” Ripping his mouth away from the hand, Kyotani dodges Noya’s immovable stare and cowers away. The streak of banter is cut short, a harsh reminder that this isn’t going to be a happy reunion in any way, shape, or form.

“What is it- what’s wrong-”

“He’s g-gonna- _urgckk-_ he’s _crazy_ , he’s c-crazy- _nhhg_ \- h-he’s gonna k- _kill_ me…”

Noya gets up and moves away without a word, lips uncharacteristically thin and white. Yahaba lets Kyotani crush his hand, watching Noya walk to the corner of the roof, willing himself to keep his eyes on the short boy.

“Maybe it’s best if you… _Asahi_ -” Oikawa calls the tall boy over- “Maybe you should let us know what you saw in there, Haba, it could help us a lot…”

“I- did you two try to-” Asahi begins, stopping when Oikawa hits him. “I’ll- I’ll just get the maps we have, wait a second, s-sorry…”

When he returns, Suga is at his side. They hold the plans out between them, letting Yahaba scan them for a minute or two.

“This plan won’t work, now… These walls here have caved in, and the courtyard stairs are nonexistent… You’re gonna have to go… Around through here, and up… Up _this_ stairwell…” Yahaba points from spot to spot on the crudely drawn map he’s got lain out alongside his small pile of supplies. “The code room is the same, and those codes are- _hah_ , how stupid, I was ‘boutta tell you that ‘they haven’t changed’… Of course they haven’t, no one is alive to change them…”

The two of them exchange ideas, using Yahaba’s recent encounter with the building and the undead inside, combining it with the amalgam of ideas that everyone in their group had put in. Hinata approaches Kyotani and inspects his wrist. After a moment of rummaging in his kit, he pulls out a clean, white bandage and starts to wrap the older boy’s injury. Once he’s done, Hinata lays a shaking hand over the covered wound, and Kyotani places his free one on top. Lunch goes on halt for a moment as they try to silently figure out what this means.

No one receives any answer other than the tears that Hinata’s actions bring to Kageyama’s eyes.

 

By the time Yahaba exhausts the last of his memory, the sun is beginning to get low-slung in the hills, and rest of the group has fallen into a disconcerting hush. Hinata is back by Kageyama’s side. Noya is still staring off into the distance on the same corner of the roof, yet to be moved. Kyotani chews his lips raw to keep back the sounds of pain, occasionally butting against Yahaba to keep moving his hand against his burning skin.

“Thank you.” Asahi breathes, trying to catch Yahaba’s eyes as the boy fusses over Kyotani- groans starting anew, blood and blackness splotching the bandage. “I’m- we- that’s so helpful, we could’ve been stumped by that- who knows what would have happened…”

“Hey… Here…” Yahaba leans away from Kyotani for a second, pulling a set of four handheld out of his pile and holding them up. Suga accepts them graciously. “Take them. We were using it to stay in touch when I was scavenging, and… Kyotani is going to shift soon… I can’t come with you, so you guys will get more use out of-”

“ _What_?!” Waving a grubby cloth around his head, Oikawa make his displeasure known. Iwaizumi scolds him for not watching what he’s doing, warning him to concentrate on cleaning his weapon properly. “You- you _have_ to, we- you- you should come with us, your knowledge of the building would be invaluable-”

“I refuse. I’m sorry, Oikawa... I want to stay with him. I can’t leave him.”

“We can stay here with you, if you want!” Tanaka offers, clutching Yamamoto. “Us and the kids. We can defend you guys if anything goes wrong, yeah?”

“… Thanks. Really,” Yahaba smiles up at the bald boy, “It means a lot.”

 

ºººººº

 

“ _Oi_.”

“Yes~ My Iwa-ch-”

Iwaizumi grabs Oikawa by the collar, choking off his words. He drags him away from the view Oikawa had been admiring and thrusts him towards a vacant part of the roof.

“Shut _up_. I need to tell you something.”

Oikawa, despite himself, hopes it’s a conspiracy. Mutiny, if the hushed words and dangerous way Iwaizumi blocks him from the rest of the group is any hint. He wonders if it’s a symptom of being around too many people for too long, for both of them. He’ll admit, he tends to go crazy for power, and Iwaizumi gets tetchy whenever familiar faces surround Oikawa; any one of them could stab him in the back, at any given moment. It’s Iwaizumi’s responsibility to protect him. How’s he supposed to do that when the enemy could be the closest one to them?

“What is it?” Interfering with their sudden, intense stare-off, both likely thinking around the same ideas, Oikawa leans ever closer and lowers his voice to match. Steely. Seriousness.

“Keep an eye on him.”

“Who?”

“ _Bokuto_.” To his credit, Iwaizumi doesn’t alarm himself when he says the name out loud and look around to check where the boy is. “Keep your fucking _eyes_ on him where you can, _alright_?”

“Iwa-chan, it’s not like he’s gonna-”

Hands find his collar again, shoving the taller boy back a step or two- it’s hard to tell, when you’ve only got one foot to step on.

“Oikawa, _I am not fucking around_. Promise me you will.”

“… Okay, I-”

“ _Promise-_ ”

“Hajime, _I swear_ , I will watch him to the utmost of my ability, and if I fail may my head be blown off by one of Chibi-chan’s grenades.”

“… That’s a bit far.”

“Well, I _promised_ , didn’t I?”

Oikawa gets a punch for that. He scowls at the toughness of it.

“Shittykawa, don’t bet your life on this shit.” A nose rubs over his neck and down his jaw, breath heating his collarbone. He can feel the underside of his neck flushing bright red where Iwaizumi pauses to breathe, lips moving against the tender skin. “I can’t lose you again. _Ever."_

“You, either.”

“… Whatever.” Iwaizumi pulls him in for a quick kiss. “Idiot.”

 

ºººººº

 

“Suga… Will the zombies live, or will they all die?”

“You mean, will they be cured?”

“Yeah…”

“No, Hinata. They will die- they’re already dead, but they’ll cease to be zombies.”

“What… What about Kyotani, Suga? What will happen to-”

“It depends on whether or not he turns before we reach the controls and blow that fucker up.” Kuroo scoffs, checking his revolver and twirling the barrel. Next to him, Bokuto does small jumps that Akaashi tries to contain, the older boy vibrating with anticipation, fingers already scraping against the safety catches of the machine guns resting over his shoulders. Hinata is flicking his lighters on and off in some sort of weird pyro ritual, and Daichi is tensing and relaxing his bow whilst Suga fiddles with the fletching of the three he’s got ready in his hand. Tadashi tests his balance, whirling his axes behind Tsukishima; who’s running his fingers along the straps of his holsters in a way that seems to soothe any underlying nerves he might have.

“So, let’s fucking get this done.” States Oikawa, snapping a clip into his sniper, hauling himself up onto the hood of a car, and checking down his sights at the fort. “I have all three levels through those west corridors, and the front doors and the parking lot. In those stairwells Yahaba mentioned, you’re on your own- but I’ll stop what I can. _Ready_?” And really, that’s ‘Oikawa’ for _get your asses in gear, shit’s about to go down, there’s no time to fuck around_.

He fires ten shots and reloads- each one shatters a different long window on the west side of the fort. The screeches and clicks of the zombies within earshot of the noises rise from the building ahead. “ _Good luck_!” He cheers happily, “I’ll be _watching_ ~”

“Shittykawa.” Iwaizumi throws a clump of tarmac at him before racing to catch up with the rest of the group.

“Go _get ‘em_ , Iwa-chan!!” He screams with twice as much enthusiasm, swaying his hips and spinning his gun above his head like a cheerleader would a baton.

“ _Shut u_ p!! Make your shitty self useful and _shoot_ something!!”

“Your wish is _my_ command, _Iwa-chan_ ~!!!”

**_BANG!!_ **

 

ºººººº

 

A bloody affair is what the skirmish ended up being. No one expected anything less, except… That never makes it _hurt_ less. With a do-or-die approach, they’d gone in uncaring whether they were bitten or scratched. Seeing Kyotani had bolstered their spirits, and facing certain death with the odds in their failure had fortified their attacks.

The disease was no longer rapid and burning. If they were to get infected, it would not instantly take them, and they could still fight. If they were successful, the infection would most likely leave them unharmed.

If they were unsuccessful, they would all be dead, so it wouldn’t matter either way.

 

A chain of key codes and gunfire, a far-off rocket taking off into the sky, a tracer tracking the missile- confirming its impact into the distant continent… The quaking and falling of their enemies- _victory_ –wasn’t even enough to distract from the one boy missing.

One boy less, they leave the building.

Move down the road in a group, pass the car showered in unused shells.

 _Where did he go?_ They’re all thinking, _did he see?_

_Does he know?_

_…_

_Where is Oikawa-_

“Iwa-chan?”

Oikawa’s weak voice is comes from behind them, and everyone turns.

 _Horror_. Plain as day on their faces.

There’s a shift in the crowd, undecided- some of them trying to shove Bokuto forward, the remainder intent on hiding him.

_Who’s going to tell him?_

_…_

_How are we going to tell him?_

_What are we going to tell him?_

_…_

Akaashi is brave enough to step forward.

“He… He didn’t make it, Oikawa... I’m so- We… We saw him go down, but it… It wasn’t from infected, ob-obviously… It…” He’s unable to finish, unable to meet Oikawa’s eyes as he stares and stares and _stares_ , like the boy before him might morph into the boy he’s missing, might actually tell him where the _fuck_ his Iwaizumi has really gone, _where_ …

Over Akaashi’s head, Oikawa catches Bokuto fiddling with the trigger of his gun, eyes downcast, customary sneer absent.

 

_‘He gets too worked up…’_

_‘Keep your fucking eyes-’_

_‘He’s shot people on his side before…’_

_‘Keep your fucking eyes on him-’_

_‘He ‘accidentally’ blew up our-’_

_‘Bokuto… Keep your fucking eyes on him-’_

_‘Hajime, I promise-’_

_‘Hajime, I promise-’_

_Hajime, I promised-_

“You _fucking_ _bastard_!!!” Using his sniper as a second leg, Oikawa bounds around Akaashi and pitches himself towards Bokuto, fists numb, shoulders lighter than they’ve ever been, neck strung tight in an imagined noose, head empty save for _kill it, kill it, kill it, kill it, kill_. “ _You bastard_ , it was _you_ , you _fucking killed him_ , didn’t you!!”

For the first time in his life, Bokuto drops his weapon, turns, and _runs_.

“Fuck, I _didn’t do it, I- fuck- fuck- please don’t kill me- fuck-_ ”

“I’ll fucking kill _all of you- he-_ you didn’t _stop him- you didn’t save him_!! I’m going to _kill you, Bokuto_ , over and over _and over_ until he’s fucking _back- I’ll fucking-_ ”

_Hajime, I promised you-_

“Oikawa, _calm down_ , killing him isn’t going to solve anything- _guh_!!” Suga grabs at Oikawa’s free arm, not expecting the sharp swing of the gun. The butt of the sniper rifle cracks against Suga’s nose- white noise floods his ears and his vision blacks out as the impact sends him flying back.

“Shit!!” Hinata cries out, grabbing Kageyama as the sniper’s nose keeps turning, leveling off on the group of frozen boys at the opposite edge of the parking lot.

“He’s gonna _fucking shoot us_!” Howls Kuroo, throwing himself in front of Kenma. “ _Do something_! Someone fucking _do_ something, _fuck, no-_ ”

Daichi takes a few running steps at Oikawa, intent on getting Suga away from him more than anything-

**_BANG!!_ **

“ _Daichi!!!”_ Suga howls.

From Suga’s perspective, the deafening crack of the gun above him and the sight of the boy dropping to the tarmac- the way everyone else ducked down –sobers his pain lightning quick. _No, no, no- we can’t lose two- I can’t lose Daichi- fuck- no-_

The instant he attempts to stand, a boot is planted between his ribcage, huffing out the air in his lungs, snuffing out a fire in his chest. The pressure and full weight crushes him. His fingers begin to spasm when his inhales are stopped short, eyes rolling back- the blood from his nose pools and runs upwards, over his cheekbones and into his hair, bubbling from his mouth and mixed with saliva, the wet coughs chaffing and burning his throat.

“I _swear_ _to fucking hell- stop!!_ Just fucking _stop!!!_ ” Oikawa is screaming, whirling with his weight on Suga’s back. Bokuto had thrown himself down at the sound of the gun and is now scrabbling to get up and escape.

Crosshairs waver rapidly with his breaths, the movement narrowing and narrowing as he shortens, shallows, _just how Iwaizumi taught me_ , the inner notches centering on broad shoulders, finger creaking in the trigger hold…

**_BANG!!_ **

The bullet clips Bokuto in the side, sending him sprawling once more. He’s run out of words to say, the only sign of distress are his sobs, distant to Oikawa’s ears, distant to him entirely.

Leveling the sights again, Oikawa finally manages to take a deep breath.

His shaking aim stills, hovering over the back of Bokuto’s head.

Tsukishima tackles Oikawa to the ground- keeping him there is a dirty struggle, the pair rolling and kicking, clawing and yelling at one another, Oikawa trying to get his gun up enough to fire it again. Restrained by Kinoshita and Narita, Yamaguchi makes to throw his tomahawks at Oikawa- Chikara blocks his view and aim, only causing him to struggle further. Daichi and Kuroo come next at Oikawa, wrestling the sniper out of the boy’s hands, tossing it back to Asahi, Daichi aiming a hard kick at Oikawa’s chin to stop his shouting. Suga is helped by Kageyama and Kenma to sit up, Yahaba bringing him water.

Tsukishima backs off, realizing the scuffle he’s caused further back in their ranks.

His fight is feeble now that he’s been blocked off, and Oikawa uses Kuroo to get to his feet. Taking a shallow, shuddering breath, in and out, he lunges for Hinata.

“ _Give me that_ , _you_ _little shit_!!”

Although Hinata nearly shits himself at the tortured noises tearing themselves from Oikawa’s throat, he defiantly chucks the sniper as far away from them as he can. He spares a sad glance at the older boy balancing awkwardly on his one leg before kneeling in front of Suga, his back to Oikawa. Hinata’s pity isn’t met well, and his hands flinch where they sooth down Suga’s battered ribs; he tries to block out the screams by asking Suga questions, checking his sight, rummaging through his kit for something to help the pain. Kyotani crouches by Suga’s side as well, greeting the mob wordlessly, tucking Yahaba under his shoulder.

No one dares to talk to Oikawa again, preferring to let him wail himself hoarse-

That is, until he reaches around his back and pulls out a pistol.

Kuroo dives to the side, scrambling away, the aim of the pistol following him.

“ _Shit_ \- he’s- sh-shit _guys_ he’s got a gun-”

“Don’t. _Fucking_. Move.”

His voice comes out as steel.

There isn’t a trace of sadness in his words, and yet they can hear the jittery way he’s breathing, can watch the tears tracking his cheeks.

The gun flits from person to person, his eyes monitoring each one- wide and wild, easily tracking each and every flinch, flicker, and gasp.

“Oikawa…” Asahi tries, powerless to hide the fear shaking his voice, “You don’t… You don’t have-… Please, just calm down…”

“ _Hajime_ , ah…” His breathing quivers around the name, the gun lowering a little, rattling in his hand. Cold chills the group, the sun struggling to keep its final rays up, “It’s my fault…”

Asahi cautions a step towards him, Noya following just behind, ready for anything, watching Asahi, watching Oikawa, keeping an eye on Bokuto in the distance; the only one witnessing a speck grow larger and larger as it bolts down from the fort’s entrance.

“Asahi… Do you see that…” Noya whispers, to no avail- it’s not like they’re moving fast, the figure making for them, so they’re less of a threat right now. And Noya can understand that, or at least he attempts to, so he narrows his focus on Asahi as much as he can manage.

“Oikawa, you-”

The gun is up again and Asahi snaps his mouth shut, stumbles back in a knee-jerk reaction, tripping over Noya as he flounders- though, the gun isn’t aimed at anyone close to him.

It’s pressed to the underside of Oikawa’s chin.

“F-fuck, it’s _all_ my fault, all of it, _all of it!!!”_

“ _Oikawa_!!” Yahaba shrieks, leaving Suga’s side and running towards him. The gun changes its aim again, aligning with Yahaba’s chest. Asahi catches the boy by the leg of his pants before he can get any closer, tripping him up. Noya slides over Yahaba to keep him down. “ _N-no_!”

“If I had just- _watched_ \- and-”

“You- you don’t have to do this-” Akaashi, this time. He doesn’t make a bold move like Yahaba, but he does move towards Oikawa slowly, eyes on the gun as it moves once more, resting back against the soft skin of his stretched neck. Wetness drips down the length of it, his tears running down the barrel, the handle, cleaning lines on his filthy hands and fingers.

“Like he said, l-like he _fucking said_ , I- and I _didn’t listen_ , I’m so-”

“Hey...” From where he’s perched alongside Suga, Kageyama spots a figure, flat-out sprinting despite the obvious limp, growing the closer it gets, bare of weapons. “ _Hey_.”

“I wouldn’t be- _he_ w-wouldn’t- _ah,_ f-fuck, _fuck, I-I’m s-so sorry, Iwa-chan-_ ”

“ _D-don’t_!!” Most of them cower when they see the trigger wobble, hear its creak between Oikawa’s sobs. Yamaguchi, Lev, and Yamamoto- all keeping quiet up the back -notice Kageyama’s distressed yelp, follow his thrashing arm as he points, although unclear for all his horrified shaking, at the approaching person, gasping together when they recognize who it is. “Oikawa-senpai, it’s- _it’s_ -”

“ _Fuck_ , Hajime, I _-I’m so_ -”

“Oi- _Oikawa_ -”

Kageyama’s words are white noise to him. His skin dents where the muzzle of the gun rests, shadows hiding the end- he presses it harder, eyes squeezing shut. Oikawa’s chest deflates as he lets out an awful wail; head tilting even further backwards, the gun’s angle changing with it. Muffled chants of ‘ _move, move, move’_ , _‘fuck, someone grab the idiot’_ , _‘get out of my fucking way’_ \- not even they can reach his ears, deafened by his own screams-

“ _It’s my stupid fault, I’m- it was my own stupid fault_ \- I- I _don’t- I-Iwa- I can’t-_ ”

**_BANG!_ **

 

Even through the ringing overpowers every other sound, as though every car alarm in the world went off at the same time inside his head, Oikawa can hear the words in his ear, breathless, distraught, _relieved_.

“If… If you _dare_ kill… Kill yourself,” A warm, tanned hand clutches his wrist hard enough to pop the gun out of his grip, “I will… I will fucking _kill_ _you_ , you stupid piece of shit... _Understand_?” The hand leaves behind smudges of blood as it releases him, goes to his shoulders and pulls him forwards, forcing him and his lack of balance to collapse against- “Fucking _idiot_ , _Shittykawa_.”

The noise that leaves Oikawa is purely animalistic.

“N-now you know… How I felt, fucking- _Tooru_ …”

“ _Ha- ji- me_ …”

“Yes, _yes_ , it’s me, Tooru, I-I’m here, I’m fine, _I’m o-okay, I-I’m fine_ …”

There are several bullet wounds that had gone in to Iwaizumi’s right arm, his right pant leg torn off at his hip, the skin soaked in blood, gunk caught in the hair. A nightmarish gash streaks over his forehead and cracks its way down the right side of his face, splitting in to the corner of his eye and running back in lightning-like streaks to his ear, going down to the neckline of his shirt. Its faded blue has gone black with blood from the wound over his face, fresh and still-warm and dripping on the leg of Oikawa’s shorts, reddening his hands as he runs his hands over Iwaizumi’s chest and shoulders, soaking his own jumper crimson when he brings Iwaizumi in for another hug.

“… _Fuck_ , that was close.” Suga weeps, legs wobbling when Daichi helps him to stand. “Asahi, go get the van, we should head back to the warehouse-”

“No, no,” Daichi frets, “We’re gonna sit you down and check you over… Bokuto, and Iwaizumi, too.”

“Though…” Suga tries to joke, “Not too close together. Oikawa might kill Bokuto.”

“I… I need someone to wrap my hands... And…” From above them, Tsukishima grumbles something incomprehensible about Hinata’s binding skills and displays his scratched up palms.

“Sure. Come on, out of the open- let’s get against that wall-”

Ushijima comes _thundering_ around the corner of the building Daichi had just pointed out, _vaulting_ over several cars, taking care to protect the energy snack he’d crept away to pinch from Yahaba’s supplies. The distress is blatant on his face; out of breath from the speed at which he’d moved once he’d heard the first gun shot.

Skidding to a stop and bringing the bar hungrily to his mouth when no proximate danger is spotted, he takes in the pair clutching one another on the ground, Bokuto tentatively circling them and falling heavily into Akaashi and Kuroo’s arms, Hinata rushing to his aid. He watches Daichi and Asahi stumble past, supporting Suga between them, with Noya, Yamaguchi, Tsukishima, the second years, and Kenma in tow. Yaku is speaking quietly with Yahaba, both of them watching Oikawa and Iwaizumi carefully. Lev and Kyotani are engaged in some sort of non-human conversation, the previously-almost-dead boy showing no sign of contagion or injury as he hops around the young kid in an agitated manner, gesturing animatedly.

“… What… What did I miss?” Ushijiima asks, slowly, dumbly, crackled and muffled around the protein bar.

Kageyama bursts out in high-pitched cackling, tears streaming, eyes glowing in the lightless dusk.

 

ºººººº

 

“Okay, but are we not going to talk about how Oikawa almost killed me?!”

“ _You_ …” Oikawa’s eyes flash something fierce and his hand zips for his revolver. Ushijima is closer, and he grabs hold of Oikawa’s hand. Bokuto is half way across the warehouse already, creeping back to his seat by the time Iwaizumi makes it to take Ushijima’s place, cradling Oikawa and whispering to him delicately.

“ _Okay_ ,” Tanaka talks over the evident uncomfortableness, hugging Yamamoto as he goes on, “But are we _not_ going to talk about how we _fucking saved the world_!!?”

“ _We_?!” Ennoshita hoots unexpectedly, sending Yahaba toppling off of his crate. “You two _lazy asses_ sat on a roof and _watched_!”

Kyotani grunts in agreement from where he’s curled up under the blankets with Lev, dog heads and tails alike sticking out at odd ends around and between them.

“Get _fucked_ , we were _moral support-_ ” Yamamoto argues, throwing a bag of marshmallows at the dog-pile. From his seat on a box behind the blankets, Yaku leans forward and catches it easily. He bursts it open, stuffing his face with the sweets.

“You weren’t even _in_ the building-” Narita fires back, jumping when the pair yell in perfect synchronization:

“ _Spiritual moral support_!”

“No, really, get fucked!” Kuroo giggles. “Besides! If anyone gets an award, here, it’s _Iwaizumi_!! What a guy! MVP, in my books!”

“Mine, too!” Daichi yells, backed up by a majority of the people in the room- even Bokuto calls in his agreement, although he clutches Akaashi when Oikawa’s glare finds him.

“ _Thank you_!” Iwaizumi shouts, laughing as Kuroo uncoordinatedly unravels himself from his and Kenma’s blanket nest to bow at him.

“Iwa-chan, your _face_ …” Oikawa worries, reaching in his bag for a towel to mop the blood up from where it’s spilling though. Smiling too broadly cracks the tear apart, slowing its healing.

Kinda sucks that he can’t _stop smiling_.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“It’s _beautiful_ , shithead, but it’s- you have to _stop_ splitting it open.”

“I’ll bandage it up for you, yeah?” Hinata offers.

“Yeah- sorry I took them off last night, I couldn’t sleep with them on…”

“No, no, it’s all good- I wouldn’t be able to, either-”

“And you worked so hard on them, I feel bad-”

“It’s fine, _truly_. I’d work hard on it whether they’d end up coming off a minute later or not.”

Iwaizumi grins down at the boy, eliciting another bout of scolding from Oikawa.

“… This boy sounds like captain material, Sawamura." Iwaizumi comments, ignoring Oikawa's distressed wails and volleys of tissues. "Given another two years…”

“Really? You really think so?!” Hinata squeaks, having to whap Kageyama on the head when he giggles, teasing him for his cracking voice.

“Hell yeah, Chibi-chan.”

“ _Auugh_ , I _hate_ that nickname…”

Kageyama laughs again, and this time Hinata stops rubbing the boy’s back as punishment. It only takes a moment for Kageyama to blurt apologies and arch his back like a cat, begging for more. Hinata indulges him, looking around the circle happily, frowning a bit when he notices something. “Has… Has anyone seen Noya-san?” He asks.

A momentary panic grips them as they twist around in their places, thinking Noya had merely vanished out of their sights due to his height. This builds in to a full-blown anxiety, in Asahi’s case, when Noya is in fact nowhere to be found.

“Noya?! Where are you!? Noya! Where the hell-” He jumps out of his seat, disturbing Suga, who yelps as his bruised ribs jostle. Daichi is about to yell at Asahi when the terror-fuelled roar comes: “ _Noya_!!!!”

It echoes eerily into the dark corners of the warehouse, where the light of their fire doesn’t reach.

“He- he said-” Asahi rushes onwards without hearing Kageyama stutter, unresponsive to the people around him- “He told me he was… Going to get…” The door slams behind Asahi, and Kageyama slumps to the floor once again, sighing, “More firewood- _ah_ , he’s gone.”

“You tried, Kageya, you tried.” Hinata mumbles, continuing to rub Kageyama’s lower back, the conversation steadily picking up around them.

 

ºººººº

 

“… Noya?”

To his own astonishment, Noya doesn’t flinch.

He slowly lowers the gun from his temple to his lap, looking down at it, long and stern.

He bends forward and lays it in the hole he’d dug.

It takes a few sweeps to cover it in dirt, a firm stamp and a couple of pats to erase any indication of it.

“It’s good, Asahi.” He breathes, looking out to the sunrise. “It’s good.”

“… Yuu, what were you…”

“… I said it’s _good_ , Asahi, don’t make me dig the fucking thing up again-”

“Hey, you were about to-”

“No _shit_ , Asahi- and- and it wouldn’t have been so _hard_ if you hadn’t come _blundering in like an idiot_!!”

“Wh-what do you- _Noya_ , you can’t actually think-”

“You have _no idea_ what I think _, none_ of you do! Yeah, sure, Oikawa is _okay_ because Iwaizumi is _alive_!! _Haha, happy days_ , he still wants to shoot Bokuto full of holes but, in the end of the day, they’re all _alive_ and _great_ \- and I’m just-!”

“ _Yuu_ …”

“Asahi, get the _fuck off_! Let me go!”

“ _Nope_. Not gonna let go.”

“… Get you fucking bear arms off me, idiot, I don’t need a hug.”

“ _Never_.” Asahi sighs, crushing Noya closer to his chest, tightening his hold on the boy. Eventually, he stops struggling. “You’re not allowed to dig it up.”

“ _Don’t_ tell me what to do.”

“… You killed them for a good reason, Yuu.”

“ _Stop it_ , Asahi, just _stop-_ ”

“You keep saying you’re dead, that _everyone’s_ dead, here, but you just forgot what it meant to be living for a reason. Sometimes, I’m not even enough, and I _get_ that. You thought that they’d lose it all, and you didn’t want it to happen, you- I _know_ you thought it was best. And maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. You’re never going to know. In the end, they’re another casualty to it.”

“T-to _me_ , I- they did _nothing_ wrong-”

“It’s okay-”

“I used a _kitchen knife, Asahi-_ ”

“I know, I _know_ , you’ve told me…”

“… A fucking knife... She was making soup when we saw the first report, she didn’t even go back to it… The knife was still dirty…”

“Noya, don’t go back there-”

“And I looked her right in the eyes when I told her I needed help… In the kitchen… And I didn’t let her make any noise… And, my father, he… Was glued to the-”

“Noya-”

“The television, he was on call with his friends, but he _saw_ the knife… And… And he didn’t even run, he just stood there and said goodbye to his friends… And he _knew_ mum was dead, and he knew _I_ had- he could see the blood, it was on the floor and on my face, and on my _hands_ , and…”

“… _Yuu_ …”

Asahi closes his eyes, the world around him fading. He lets Noya cry in his arms, lets beat up his chest with his fists, lets him yell about the numbness seated too-deep in his chest.

“H-he didn’t even _run_ … He- he j-just _let_ me- _he l-let me do it, he wa-watched me as I d-did it- he- shit- fuck_!! _Da_ - _dad_ , I-I’m so _sorry…_ ”

“It’s alright, Yuu-”

“It’s _not-_ ”

“It _is_ , it is…” Ignoring the violent protests, Asahi takes Noya into his arms and carries him, walking through he streets of the broken town, making his way to the warehouse. “It’s alright, Noya…”

“Stop _saying that_ \- you _always_ say it, I-I’m so _s-sick_ of it, ‘m _sick of this-_ ”

“Trust me-”

“Fucking _why-_ I’m- _y-you_ keep saying the ­ _same shit-_ I-”

“I’ll keep saying it until you believe it, but... For now…”

“Asahi don’t fucking _take me in there like this_ , I will fucking-”

“I’m not, it’s okay… I wouldn’t do that… Shush for a moment, okay?”

Asahi bypasses the hidden entrance and rounds the building’s west end, climbing swiftly and soundlessly up the stairs. He flips the switches, entering through the iron door. Tanaka had disarmed most of the traps in the hallway, but Asahi still makes his way through it gingerly, easily keeping a hold on Noya as he struggles more and more the closer they got to the inner balcony, to the booming voices and brash words and raucous laughter below.

“Asahi, _please_ … Please, put me down…”

Asahi _does_ pause at this, blinking down at Noya’s shivering body, wide eyes glistening, pupils huge from rage or fear or both.

“Is… That’s the first time you’ve ever said ‘please’… Since…”

“… Shut up and put me down.”

He lets him down gently, keeping a hand on his back to ensure the smaller boy knows that, if he makes a run for it, Asahi is still there and ready to grab him.

“I-”

“Listen.” Noya states, sniggering to himself. “ _Listen_ , that’s what you’re gonna ask me to do, huh? _Listen_ to them- _oh_ , Noya, you did this, you saved them, we wouldn’t _be_ _here_ if it weren’t for you. But, Asahi, _you_ listen-”

“ _Damnit_ , Yuu-”

“I could have saved the world a _billion_ times over, and it still wouldn’t change what I did. It will _never_ take that back. I have to live with what I did to them for the _rest_ of my fucking life on this piece of shit world, and… And I just don’t see the fucking point, alright? We can play volleyball, and eat good meals, and you can be with me every second of the day and night, and we could kill everyone else in the world and let it just be _us_ , and yet, that does nothing for what’s inside of me… I’m a killer, Asahi.”

“You’re not, Yuu-”

“A _killer_ … Asahi, that’s… I’m a fucking killer…”

“We… Yuu, we all are- everyone here has-”

“Out of _necessity_ \- if- if we didn’t kill the people we have _after_ the infection it, we would have been killed, or turned, or… Whatever. No- _no_ , Asahi, I… I killed them, knowing one-hundred percent what was going on. It wasn’t for survival, for food or safety or… I did it, thinking _this could save them_. Like, _me_ , killing them, could _spare_ them.”

“… You didn’t know _what_ was going to happen, Yuu. And maybe, for how the world has ended up… That was the best course of action-”

“Fucking _hell_ , Asahi, can you _not hear yourself_? I-”

“ _You_ have imagined what you’d be like if they were still around, but- can you imagine them, life for them, if they’d remained? If you _hadn’t_ done anything? Would you have gone with them, if they asked you? Would you have let them take you away from _me_? Would they have gotten infected, and turned on you- like Ushijima, _forcing_ you to kill them, anyway? Would you have ended up like Daichi? _Constantly_ fearing for his life, wondering if his dad is ever going to find him and get revenge? Or-”

“Wait, Daichi-”

“Daichi couldn’t kill his father, Noya. He shot him up to hell and ran away.”

“… He… He did?”

“Yes, Yuu. And Hinata’s little sister got bitten and, no matter what he did, she turned… And he watched her rip his mother limb from limb. And Oikawa, he and Iwaizumi told me that before they got in to the pack Oikawa took control of… They had to fight off two of their best friends, from their- the other two third years on their team, leave them behind in a huge hoard near their high school…”

“… Infected… Were they infected?”

“No… They had gone insane from terror… They had to leave them for dead… And… And Tanaka hasn’t told you?”

“Told me what?”

“About his sister?”

“Saeko-nee-san…”

“… She tried to kill him, too… Uninfected… She thought she was sparing him, protecting him.” Noya finally goes quiet, allowing for Asahi to move him forward to the edge of the balcony, overlooking the others. “The hours before the wave hit- it made _everyone_ go crazy, Yuu. No one was thinking right, and a lot of people lost the plot once they realized what was _really_ happening. And you… You’ve been strong enough to come this far, with me, and with all these guys… Even after what you did, you’re still _Noya_ \- even if it’s an act, most of the time… You were still able to hold on to who you were… And it’s all part of becoming who you _are_ , who you’re going to _be_ in this…”

“Asahi…”

“Hm?”

“You’re… You’re so strong, too… To say that, to me… And to… To _believe_ , so much, in me… In this world… Even though it’s long dead, and… So am I… You never stop… You _never_ do… You never went insane, you just…. _Survived_ , you…”

“… Blah, blah,” Asahi chuckles, winding his arms around Noya, “I’m stronger than I think, heh, see? You sound just like you used to… Still believing in me, still giving me strength…”

“Big softy Ace with a stupid goatee and that _damn_ heart of glass… You’ve _never_ let it stop you, now.”

“Well, _that’s_ just not true-”

“Fine print, whatever… Asahi, I’m... I _shouldn’t_ have said that, I shouldn’t have said what I did before, but it’s _true_. I feel like shit about it, but… Even though if _is_ true, I don’t want to accept it. I want you to… To _help_ me, I… I’m _not okay_ , I’m not…”

“I have been, silly… You’re just taking your time to notice it.”

“… I can’t believe you’re still here…”

“ _Yuu-_ ”

“ _Please_ don’t leave me, Asahi…”

“Oh, _Yuu_ …” Asahi hugs him again, and this time Noya wraps his arms as far around Asahi as he can manage, “I couldn’t leave you if I tried… I’ll be here, I’ll still be here… I’ll always be here…”

 

ºººººº

 

For a while, Noya struggles to find comfort in the supply runs he and Asahi go on- he can’t help but shudder at his boots on the gravel and the stench of hot iron at the end of Asahi’s rifle. He helps Yamaguchi turn soil in his garden, trying to get as much dirt under his nails to ignore the bloody crimson he sees there, real or not.

The world still hates him, and he still hates it right back, and Asahi gets increasingly excited as the weeks go by and grass takes over the streets entirely. That kill-or-be-killed way the world was governed gives way to the natural elements as the pollution-producing nature of humanity’s way of life subsides. More and more friendly people pass through the town with their warehouse, some trade with them; some offer them food for shelter. Those who are unfriendly… They don’t get a chance to stay long. Oikawa got Tsukishima to build a crow’s-nest-esqu room in the crook of the warehouse’s ‘V’ shaped roof, at the end overlooking the town. His warning shot remain to be a thing of magnificence; enough to send even the most fearsome strangers packing and booking it back the way they came.

Noya lets Tsukishima take him out every now and then on the horse. Tsukishima even makes the poor decision of leaving Noya in control of the poor beast- _poor_ beast being what Tsukishima called Horse as when Noya returned the damn thing _several_ hours later, sweating and shaking and snorting labored breaths. Horse had reveled in the slight build of the boy on its back, galloping furlong after furlong with effortlessness, taking Noya far, far away, and then far, far back; with little to no direction from Noya. Hinata teaches him how to bandage his hands to make scaling buildings easier, and how to make a support for his wrists and ankles. The two of them, as well as Daichi, Suga, and Kyotani, start having races on mornings when they can’t get back to sleep, carving paths in the slowly degrading town, adapting their skills to the trees and logs overtaking the shops and houses. And while Oikawa gets Noya to hack up wood for the fire, Ushijima teaches him and Yamaguchi about native plants for outside their garden, naturally occurring foods in their area, what can be sowed when, how to protect plants such as lettuce and tomatoes from frost and snow.

Kuroo and Kenma take it upon themselves to erect a proper volleyball court in the center of the warehouse, and Iwaizumi gets the second year’s help to craft a cart for Horse. He doesn’t tell anyone why until, one day, he and Tsukishima bring home their first lounge, a matching arm-chair tied to it, and a few bar stools tethered to the sides of the cart. Shipping boxes are replaced with cushions- mats and dirty pillows with proper mattresses and linen- their crappy, makeshift chests swapped out for cabinets with hinges and locks.

 

The warehouse flourishes and changes: lone wanderers no longer fear the grouchy sniper on the roof, the fire blazes and lets out plumes of smoke during the night time and in the winter. _And_ , the aforementioned grouchy sniper starts feeling less and less like murdering Bokuto in his sleep, although that’ll remain a work in progress, perhaps for the rest of their lives.

 

All around him, this little place in this shitty, hollow world changes and _changes_ , and Noya gets scared, sometimes, because _am I allowed to be here? Am I like the rest of them? Am I really crazy, or am I just as crazy as everyone else?_ Sleep comes a tad easier than it used to, and everyone thinks him possessed on that one winter day he stays unconscious until the late afternoon, and the images of the future are no less haunting than the images of the past.

 

But, the huge hand clasped around his stays the same- if sometimes _disgustingly_ sweaty –all the way there and back again.

 

ºººººº

 

\- I.H. & A.A. [isn't this way over the word limit???]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCK its eleven thirty I've been cranking this last chapter out for hours aaaaaaa worth it totally worth it  
> LMAO SLAY ME IWAOI IS THE DEATH OF ME AND SO IS KYOHABA  
> I only touched on it in this but srs . guys . kyohaba . juuuuuuust  
> I am trash absolute hell trash  
> so yeah tahday i have a lot of mixed feelings about this so let me know what you think !!! this is part of a bunch of HQ AU things, so feel free to read them and also give me prompts

**Author's Note:**

> THERE IS A MAKKI/MATTSUN POV \o/  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/8855779 LOVE IT


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